Moonshadow Assassin
by ICRepresentative
Summary: A murderor is loose in Vivec, and an assassin is ordered to put a stop to them. But are these murders something more than the Morag Tong is letting on? M rating for violence, no Nerevarine.
1. Orders

Disclaimer: All kudos for the settings and stuff go to Bethsada. Everything else to me.

* * *

Rock-In-The-River stepped into the room and smelt freshly-spilt blood. The Bosmer woman crouched by the dying Dunmer did not look up. She was kneeling beside the Dunmer in a pool of his blood. The Dunmer's eyes rolled sideways, and focused on the Argonian assassin. "Kill me…" He rasped. Rock-In-The-River swallowed, sickened, and drew his sword. 

"Stan-deside," he barked at the Bosmer, levelling his sword at the back of the woman's head, "You interfere with de Morag Tong! Stan-deside!"

The Bosmer woman suddenly seemed to realise that someone was behind her. With nonchalant ease, she removed her hands from the man's stomach, taking with her a length of the man's intestines and a chunk of his liver. The Dunmer groaned in pain, far too weak to cry out. Rock-In-The-River stared, horrified, at the Dunmer's internal organs… then slowly, lifted his gaze to the face of the woman who held them. The Argonian was only given a split-second's glance, but that face was burned into his memory. He had barely time to open his mouth to call for the guards when the woman threw the liver and intestines to the floor and leapt away. Rock-In-The-River watched her go, stunned into silence. She was fast - she'd moved so quickly it was like watching a pale-brown blur slide across the walls and to the door, which opened and closed silently. Outside, it seemed that no-one else, not even the Ordinators, seemed to notice she was covered in blood. She was moving too swiftly to be seen.

Rock-In-The-River turned back to the dying Dunmer. "Kill me," what remained of the man whimpered, "Please…" Shutting his eyes to spare the tortured man some dignity, the Argonian brought down his sword and sliced the man's head from his neck. It was over in an instant.

With trembling hands, Rock-In-The-River cleaned and sheathed his sword, then took the Morag Tong writ of execution from his belt and held it up to the horrified crowd in the tavern.

"I come in de name of de Morag Tong," he said, his voice shaking, "Ishran Telvanno is executed." The Argonian swallowed and averted his eyes. "Call for someone to come and clean up dis mess."

* * *

Eno Hlaalu's eyes burned fiercely. Rock-In-The-River found himself cringing, expecting the guildmaster's wrath to fall on him. 

"A Bosmer?" The guildmaster drew out the word in a rasp.

"Yes, sera," Rock-In-The-River bobbed his head. He'd just reported the execution - or rather, what there was left of it - to the guildmaster. He'd been reminded time and time again by his brothers in the Morag Tong that a former slave like himself was lucky to be accepted into such a prestigious line of work… Rock-In-The-River licked his lips nervously. He was most certainly in trouble, for letting something like this happen.

Eno narrowed his eyes and turned away, muttering darkly to himself, then turned back to glower at the Argonian. "Did she say anything?"

Rock-In-The-River shook his frilled head. "No, sera."

"But she was torturing him. Killing him." Eno put a hand to his chin in thought, and paced around the room. Rock-In-The-River stepped out of the way, and kept his eyes on the floor. Respect had been beaten into him - he knew the Dunmer craved respect more than anything. Respect born of fear.

"How could an outsider know anything about the Morag Tong's secret writs?" Eno said savagely, talking mostly to himself. "And why would a flighty gormless sap-elf want to intrude on Morag Tong business?"

"Sera?" Rock-In-The-River cleared his throat, "Perhaps…" He fell silent.

But the guildmaster turned. "What is it, Blind Thrall?"

"She may not have known about de writ of execution," Rock-In-The-River hazarded, "Perhaps it was a revenge killing."

Eno stopped cold. "You said you gave the final blow, Argonian."

"I did," Rock-In-The-River hastily corrected, "But de savageness in her eyes, sera, suggests she 'ad been planning to kill Ishran Telvanno from the beginnin'." He lifted his eyes from the floor to find himself staring straight into the intense gaze of Eno Hlaalu. But for some reason, he could not look away.

"Perhaps." Eno conceded, holding the Argonian's gaze. "But why did she flee when you threatened her? Why didn't she finish the kill?"

"I…" Rock-In-The-River's throat felt dry. "I do not know, sera." Eno sighed heavily, and looked away. Rock-In-The-River shivered, unsettled by the guildmaster's questioning.

"Can you remember what that Bosmer looked like, Blind Thrall?" Eno asked, pouring himself a glass of shein.

"Savage." Rock-In-The-River answered, the words leaping out of his mouth. "Mad."

For some reason, this impulsive answer made the guildmaster smile. "What makes you say that?"

Rock-In-The-River hesitated a moment. "Her eyes."

"Do you remember anything else about her?" Eno asked.

Rock-In-The-River shivered. "I will never forget dat face as long as I live, sera."

"Then you should have no difficulty with your next assignment."

The Argonian stared. "Sera…!"

Eno grunted. "I would rather have my best assassin on this, but she's on a pilgrimage for the Temple, and cannot be reached. So you, lizard, will do this." Eno leaned close, as though sharing a vastly important secret with Rock-In-The-River. "Find the Bosmer woman. Find her, and kill her." The guildmaster smiled, cold and unfeeling. "It may seem like a suicide mission, Argonian, but I have complete faith in you."

Rock-In-The-River felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

**

* * *

A/N:** TBC... but very much open to suggestions. 


	2. Carnage

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda owns Morrowind, but the characters are my intellectual property.

* * *

Rock-In-The-River stared morosely over the water, watching as the fog played over the city. Here was the Temple… now, obscured. Here, the palace… now, just milky white fog. Beautiful. 

The Argonian bit down on the slaughterfish he'd caught and chewed it carefully. This would probably be the last time he saw Vivec from this angle. He knew he couldn't technically leave Vivec until he completed his mission - the Guildmaster had made that much clear - but he said nothing about taking time off to prepare himself for the inevitable.

So, Rock-In-The-River had caught a gondolier to the Temple, waited until no-one was watching, then leapt off the wooden pier and swan underwater until he reached his home.

An abandoned shipwreck south - far, far south - of the Palace of Vivec.

Rock-In-The-River spat out a sharp bone and sighed. He wanted to stay here as long as he could. There was no way he could go back into Vivec. Not with this suicide mission hanging over his head. Kill the Bosmer. Sounded easy enough. Rock-In-The-River snorted. Eno Hlaalu hadn't been there. He hadn't seen what that… that _woman_ (he hesitated to use the word - no woman was _that_ savage!) had done to the man Rock-In-The-River had been sent to kill. He couldn't understand.

The Argonian tossed what remained of the fish to the mudcrabs scattered on the sand below. The sudden appearance of the fish made them scuttle around in panic, curling up into their shells, or, in the case of the largest crab, start swimming out to sea. Rock-In-The-River watched it, amused. The crab didn't stop swimming until it was halfway to Vivec.

Vivec. The thought of the city spoiled the ex-slave's good mood. Or what was left of it.

He sighed. He hadn't been long working for the Morag Tong, but he knew his natural ability to kill without flinching was not… what was the word those Dunmer had used? Natural? Normal? Either way, it wasn't usual for a slave to be able to kill. It wasn't right.

_How liddle dey know_, Rock-In-The-River thought darkly, rising to his feet. He brushed his snout free of loose scales, then turned and headed across the sloping deck. If he was going to hunt down a psychopathic killer, he would need some rest. Tomorrow, he would seek out someone to help him hone his skills with the blade and the shield. But now, he needed rest.

He could only pray that that mad elfling's face wouldn't haunt his nightmares.

* * *

Destrina had obviously picked the wrong bar. She drank her brandy nonchalantly, but she knew that her face was on fire. And it was all she could do from storming out of the bar without looking like she was running. 

"Come on, lady, don't be a stranger."

"Come sit by us. We won't hurt you."

"Why so shy, Redguard?"

Destrina had never been good with compliments. But to have four men at once insulting her and making insinuating comments… It was almost too much to bear.

_I should have stayed in the Foreign Quarter_, she thought miserably. At least the Dunmer didn't bother going down there. At least no-one insulted her like this.

One of the Dunmer came up behind Destrina, and started massaging her shoulders. "You're pretty tense," he breathed into her ear. "You should relax."

The Redguard put down her drink and stood up. She fixed the offending party with a steely glare. "Go away." She said, putting as much authority into her voice that she could muster.

But the four Dunmer only laughed. "Ooh! She's got some _fire_ in her!" They closed in around her, like vultures at a carcass, clicking their teeth at her mockingly. They forced her away from the bar… towards the rooms.

By the Nine, were they going to… going to assault her? Here? Now? The Redguard looked towards the barkeeper, but the man was occupied with washing a certain plate very, very carefully. He must've been paid to look the other way.

Destrina backed away, reaching for her mace. If they backed her up against a wall, if they pushed her into a room, she'd smash their skulls in. Forget the Ordinators - these men were trying to rape her. If she got the murder charge, so be it. This Redguard wasn't going down without a fight. If she could help it, she wouldn't go down at all.

Suddenly, one of the Dunmer - the one who had massaged her - crumpled to his knees, red foam and a strangled cry spurting from his lips. A blade poked out of his stomach. Destrina stared, all thoughts of defending herself forgotten, as the Bosmer woman cradled the dying man in her arms and smiled, one hand still forcing the blade through his back.

The remaining three Dunmer backed away, too petrified to call for help, but wise enough to run away. That left Destrina and the Bosmer woman alone with the corpse.

But he wasn't dead yet. The Dunmer was still alive. The Bosmer left the blade where she had stuck it, and just rocked the man back and forth in her arms, making a slight cooing noise, like a bird. She pressed her face against his, twisted his arms and hers together.

Destrina couldn't move. She just stayed, flattened against the wall, unable to tear her eyes from the bloodthirsty scene that was unfolding before her.

The elf was ripping open the man, peeling off his skin, with her bare hands. She broke both his arms in three different places, not even stopping when the man cried out in pain. She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him, again and again; she reached down and withdrew her weapon, blade first, through the Dunmer's stomach. The hilt brought with it a chunk of something that Destrina presumed were organs. Without even pausing, the Bosmer stabbed out one of his eyes, then prised out the other, tossing it aside after she had done so. It skittered across the floor and stared redly back at a horrified Destrina.

Destrina had seen battlefield carnage. She knew the results of lifting a weapon to kill another in the heat of battle. She knew what a bloody aftermath looked like. But never in her life had the Redguard seen such brutality… and in the heart of the most civilised city in Vvardenfell? It just didn't happen!

The Bosmer sat on the man's bleeding stomach and started slitting his legs open, cutting off the kneecaps and pulling at the tendons. She was drenched in his blood.

_Who is this madwoman?_ Destrina stared, still unable to move. _And why is she doing this?_

The door burst open at the other end of the tavern. The Bosmer woman… the Bosmer butcherer! - lifted her head, as though barely interrupted. Destrina couldn't see the look on the wood-elf's face, but for some reason, the Redguard imagined her to be grinning.

The Dunmer woman standing in the doorway stared, horrified, at the carnage. With trembling hands, she drew a sword.

"You interfere with the Morag Tong!" She barked, though her voice trembled. "Stand aside!" The Bosmer woman cocked her head, as though she had heard those words before, but she did not move. "Stand aside!" The Morag Tong agent made to move towards the Bosmer.

Destrina blinked, and the wood-elf was gone. The door opened and closed for a brown-red blur, but that was all. The Bosmer had simply… vanished.

The Morag Tong agent came over to the body, and knelt down beside it. With a trembling hand, she pressed two fingers against the dead man's throat.

He gave a throaty wheeze. "Kill… me…"

The Dunmer woman brought her sword down, severing the man's head from his body. She stood, and wiped the bloody sword on the edge of her tunic. Seeing Destrina, the Dunmer woman brought a piece of paper from under her tunic. She held it high for Destrina to see.

"By order of the Morag Tong," the Dunmer woman said, her voice shaky and uncertain, "Kalereb Hulaara is executed."

"Who was that?" Destrina breathed, realising that she, too, was shaking. "Who was that Bosmer?"

The Dunmer agent shook her head, pale under her tattoos. "We don't know. But this isn't the first time she's beaten us to a Writ." The woman swallowed, and looked down at the mutilated corpse. "And not the first time she's done this."

"And…" The Redguard had to swallow, had to try to steady herself, "And you haven't done anything?"

The Dunmer woman looked pained. "We have an agent investigating her… With orders to kill her."

"You'll need more than one agent to kill _her_." Destrina said.

The Morag Tong agent looked down at the corpse on the floor. Blood was beginning to congeal. Destrina looked down, and saw that blood had spattered on her clothes, her armour. Her hands. She wiped it away, disgusted. Terrified. As though murder were contagious.

"I have to report this." The Dunmer woman turned to leave. She threw a coin over the bar, where the barkeep crouched, trying to keep hidden. "Clean up the mess," the Morag Tong agent ordered, and slammed the door behind her.

Destrina looked down at the body, and shuddered. She did not envy her would-be-rapist's fate. But no man deserved to die like that.

The Redguard vowed to do something.

**

* * *

A/N:** There actually IS a shipwreck far, far south of Vivec. CARNAGE IS FUN! 


	3. Scales and Female

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda Software owns Morrowind, I created Rock and Destrina. And that crazy Bosmer chick.

* * *

Rock-In-The-River rose from the water and peered around. Nightfall. The perfect time to hunt for prey. The Argonian slithered up onto the pier, then slowly climbed the rickety stairs. His eyes were wide, and his frills extended, catching every sound. A prefect time to hunt prey, yes, but… who would be hunting whom? 

Rock-In-The-River flipped up over the wall and started running. If he hurried, he might find someone in the Fighter's Guild willing to train him… and feeling generous, seeing as Rock-In-The-River had no gold. Perhaps he could get training for a favour… a few lifted items from the Mages' Guild was often enough to…

As he rounded a corner of the Arena Canton, he slammed into someone running the other direction. The two figures collapsed in a heap - a clattering of metal and a rasping of clothes and skin on stone.

"Forgiveness!" Rock-In-The-River gasped, as he struggled to his feet. "This one did not see you!"

"I'm sorry!" The woman he had collided with stammered at the same time, "I didn't see you."

Rock-In-The-River stared as the Redguard woman heaved herself to her feet. "Forgiveness," he said again, not really aware that he was speaking. "It was I who did not see you."

The woman laughed, a little self-conscious. "This could go back and forth for a while," she said, smiling. "But apology accepted." She turned to go.

Rock-In-The-River cleared his throat. "Lady, may dis one ask… where are you going in such a hurry?"

"The Telvanni Canton," the Redguard woman's face lost all cheerfulness. "That's where she was headed."

Rock-In-The-River blinked. "Where who was headed, sera?"

"The mad elf." And then she was gone, her jogging steps echoing across the suddenly very quiet stone walkways of the Arena. Rock-In-The-River took only a second to process this information before he, too, was running towards the Telvanni Canton.

The mad elf. Was that her name now? Should something so savage have a name? But it suited the thing so perfectly - a savage, bloodthirsty Bosmer woman: the Mad Elf.

Just how many people knew about her? Stories would start spreading, if Rock-In-The-River guessed right. Stories about her abilities, her whereabouts, her history… all of which would make it harder for Rock-In-The-River to hunt down and slay the Bosmer… but much easier for her to get around without anyone trying to stop her. Fear and legends - a murderer's greatest weapon. Rock-In-The-River needed everything that this Redguard woman knew to catch the Bosmer before it was too late.

The Redguard realised she was being followed, and turned back to stare quizzically at Rock-In-The-River.

"Can I help you, Argonian?"

"You say you saw the 'mad elf'," Rock-In-The-River said, carefully. "What did you mean?"

The Redguard shivered. "A Bosmer woman. A murderer, and…"

"A butcher." Rock-In-The-River finished for her. He grabbed the woman's arm, urgent now. This Redguard woman may just be able to help him hunt that monster down. "Where did she attack? Redoran again? What happened?"

The Redguard looked at him strangely. "I was in Hlaalu. She killed a Dunmer right in front of me. Even that Morag Tong agent couldn't stop her. Why?"

Rock-In-The-River ignored the question. "Where were you?"

"The No Name Club."

Rock-In-The-River frowned. "What were you doing there? Outlanders aren't exactly popular dere."

"I realised that." The Redguard frowned at Rock-In-The-River. "Why are you asking all these questions?"

Rock-In-The-River's tongue flicked over his lips. "Forgive my questions, lady Redguard, but dey 'ad to be asked." He bobbed his head in a farewell, then turned to go. Time was of the essence, and his mind was churning over this new information. Another Dunmer. Another tavern. And Mad Elf escaped again. Eno Hlaalu would get another report of a Dunmer with a writ on his head being tortured… Perhaps now he would see the Bosmer woman as a threat… and one to be feared.

"You're from the Morag Tong, aren't you?" The Redguard asked, surprise in her voice, "You're the one they're sending to hunt the mad elf?"

Rock-In-The-River looked over his shoulder at the woman. She looked like a warrior, but not one who knew the perils of fighting in close-quarters. She had probably seen battles, true, but none like Rock-In-The-River himself had faced. This Redguard would be no use to him. She'd probably get killed if worst came to worst.

"Yes," he said darkly, "But stay out of dee way. Let me do my job." He made it two steps before the Redguard leapt in front of him, stopping him from leaving. Rock-In-The-River was too surprised by the woman's agility to even try to push past her. "What?"

A dark resolve was imprinted on the woman's face. "Listen, Argonian, I don't care if you work for the Morag Tong. I'm going to hunt this Bosmer woman, and I'm going to bring her down, with or without the help of the Webspinner's Assassins. Besides," She patted the mace at her side. "I can take care of myself."

Rock-In-The-River fought with a sigh. He turned to face the Redguard. "Why? Why do you want to hunt dee mad elf so much?" He paused, thoughtful, then asked, "Did she kill your mate?" Rock-In-The-River did not think that a Redguard could blush, but this one sure did.

"He was not my 'mate', Argonian." She said, stiffly. The way her fists clenched, Rock-In-The-River did not doubt it. "But no murder should go unpunished, and the Ordinators didn't see a thing. And they won't do a thing either. It's up to people like me… and you, of course. The mad Bosmer must answer for her crimes. She must be brought to justice."

Justice. Rock-In-The-River rolled his eyes. Honour, dignity, justice, pride, what is right… words like that meant nothing to the Argonian. The only word that mattered to him was survival. And, knowing how the Bosmer killed people, it didn't look like Rock-In-The-River would be surviving for very long.

He would need some help.  
The thought came to him so suddenly - such a reversal of his previous thoughts - that it made him pause. This Redguard woman… if she could fight, she could help him. Two against one were always better odds. And this would save him having to find a trainer to boost his skills with his blade and shield.

"Redguard," Rock-In-The-River examined the warrior with one eye, "What is your name?"

"Destrina." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why? Have you changed your mind?"

"I am Rock-In-The-River," he smiled, shaking his frills. "And, for the Morag Tong, I am to hunt down de savage Bosmer." He narrowed his eyes and gestured to Destrina's mace. "Are you any good wid dat ting?"

Destrina readied it in her hands. "Of course I am." Her eyes were hard. "So, you actually want my help now?"

Rock-In-The-River shrugged. "I was a slave once, lady. Too often I try to prove that I can do tings on my own wid-dout dee help of others." Partially true - though he had not been able to escape from the mines on his own. He did have to get some help from… well, what did it matter. He was free now.

"You were a slave?" Destrina looked horrified. "You poor thing!"

"I don't need pity," Rock-In-The-River smiled. "But I do need to do my job." He pointed to the gondola. "Have you gold? We need to talk."

Destrina nodded, a self-satisfied smile on her face. "We certainly do."

* * *

Mad-Elf looked down at the city, watching Rock-In-The-River and Destrina as they made their way towards the gondola. She understood _threat_, and she understood _prey_, but the two figures below her… they were neither threat nor prey. They were… different. They had no meaning, but they _should_ have a meaning. They should mean something to her. Mad-Elf squinted, trying to get a better look at the two figures. Trying to figure out what they were. 

Female. Tall. Brown skin. Hair in short ropes. Short hit-pain club. Clothes that shone brightly to Mad-Elf's strange eyes. And the lizard… male? Shorter than the dark-skinned female. Dark clothes. Frill on head and neck. Short blade, shield on arm. Scales.

_Scales, everywhere, scales. Scaly lizard_. Mad-Elf grinned without meaning to - it was just in her nature to be savage.

With a short, birdlike cackle, she leapt off into open space, grabbing the cloth hanging that spanned the waterways. Another leap, and she was gone, scuttling along the stone walls of Vivec. Heading for the wilderness.

_Female and scales._

She didn't know what these two were. But if they weren't _threat_ and they weren't _prey_, she wanted to find out exactly what they were.

In the deep recesses of Mad-Elf's mind, something was stirring.

**

* * *

A/N: **I'd like to give credit to Saith Raysefor the suggestion that I make a Redguard character. Destrina is so fun to write. 


	4. Assignments

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda software pwns Morrowind. I mean, owns. Owns Morrowind.

* * *

Destrina knew the name of the tavern in the Telvanni section, and, although it was the only place that the mad elf could possibly be heading, the Redguard decided not to head towards that canton. She couldn't. Not with this Argonian with her. It would be… insulting, to say the least. No, she'd have to wait. Wait until a better opportunity came along for her - and the Argonian - to kill the Bosmer. And they both needed more information before they could strike. 

Rock-In-The-River looked at Destrina strangely as she turned and led the way to the Foreign Quarter, but he voiced no complaint. He suspected this Redguard knew more than she was letting on… But even if that wasn't the case, he should not shun any possible allies who were willing to help him.

So, he followed her to the Black Shalk and waited while the Redguard woman bought flin for the both of them. As she sat down, she smiled nervously, as one does when trying to introduce oneself to a stranger. "So…" she started awkwardly, "You work for the Morag Tong?"

Inwardly, Rock-In-The-River sighed. "Yes," he said, reaching for his drink. "And I have been sent to hunt down dee Bosmer." He took a sip of the alcohol, and felt his limbs loosen. This was an expensive drink, and now he knew why - it was very, very good.

"How many times has she killed?"

Rock-In-The-River frowned, thinking. Should he trust this Redguard? Well, it was better he fought with one who knew what she would be up against. "Twice. To my knowledge. Once in the Flowers of Gold… and in the tavern where you were."

"The No Name Club." Destrina nodded. "And both victims were Dunmer men?"

The Argonian's frown deepened. "Yes… And they both had writs on their head_." But how had that Mad Elf known?_

Destrina's eyes widened. "Is she a Morag Tong agent?"

Rock-In-The-River shook his head vehemently, his throat-frill reddening. "No. It is not possible. No Bosmer works for the Morag Tong. And no elf ever shall."

"But an Argonian does?" Destrina looked carefully at Rock-In-The-River. "How did you become an agent for the Guild of Assassins, anyway?"

Rock-In-The-River's throat-frill emptied of colour. "That is not a story for now. We must find the Mad Elf. That is the most important thing."

The Redguard shrugged, then stifled a yawn. "Alright. But first, I think we should get a room for the night."

Rock-In-The-River raised an eyebrow. "You wish to sleep… now?"

The Redguard shrugged. "Why not? It's after dark, and so far, the Bosmer only attacks during the daylight hours. Besides… I'm tired - I've had a very difficult day."

"Doing what?" Rock-In-The-River asked.

This time it was Destrina who was evasive. "Nothing important." She rose to her feet. "Finish your drink - I'll rent a room."

Rock-In-The-River shook his head in mock-despair as the woman headed for the bar. Well, what was the point in telling her he had already slept, and that he worked best at night, when no-one else was around? She was right about one thing, though - the Bosmer only attacked in the daylight hours. So far. He sighed, and took another swig of his flin.

_The Bosmer only attacks during the day, and only on those who have writs on their heads. But how could she know to torture one with a writ on his head, yet keep him alive until just before one of the Morag Tong came to finish him off? _

Rock-In-The-River nearly choked on his drink. It was impossible! Unless the Bosmer knew each Morag Tong agent individually, knew their secrets, their times to collect writs… Knew when to start torturing and just how far to go to keep someone only inches away from death… If she really was a Mad Elf, then how did she know all these things?

"I could only get one room," Destrina said apologetically, as she returned to the table. "But there's a bedroll in the closet. I could sleep on the floor if you want." She frowned. "Are you alright?"

Rock-In-The-River shook his head, determined to hide his fears. "No, no, you take de bed, lady. I don't mind sleeping on de floor." He smiled slightly - though, as he knew from past experience - his smile could be unsettling to those who didn't know him.

Destrina looked unsettled. "Alright then…" She held up a key. "I'll show you which room it is, and then, if you don't want to sleep, you can meet me back here tomorrow morning."

Rock-In-The-River nodded, then rose to his feet and followed the Redguard to the rooms.

As he rounded the corner, however, he thanked the Trees that his ancestors worshiped that he had been born with eyes on the side of his head. Without them, he wouldn't have seen the four Dunmer men in a table in the furthest corner watching both he and Destrina leaving. And there was no hiding the malice and suspicion in their eyes.

* * *

Destrina waited until she was sure the Argonian was gone before she sat up on the bed. She did not mean to deceive the poor creature, but she had a job to do. Just as the Morag Tong had given that Argonian - Rock - an assignment, she had an assignment of her own. 

She pulled a small leather-bound journal from out of her tunic and flipped through it. She reread the notes she had made the previous weeks, skimming through until she found the entry she wanted. She read through it carefully, her mouths forming the words she had written on the pages.

'_The informant can tell me nothing definite - only that one of the Great Houses is responsible. Since there are only three, this shouldn't be too difficult. … Famous last words._' Destrina kept skimming through the pages, refreshing her memory and bolstering her resolve.

'_Have noticed increased activity, moving towards the city of Vivec. I have the feeling that whatever started here is just the beginning… and it will all lead to Vivec eventually._'

'_Nothing but trade caravans so far… but with three entrances to Vivec, things could come and go without anyone noticing. And then, there is that ship in the harbour. And the gondoliers, who could be bribed. This is going to be a lot more work than I thought it could be. Still, at least the three houses aren't going anywhere._'

'_It's not Redoran._'

Destrina flipped to a clean page and jotted a quick note about what she had recently learned, then put the journal away. She sighed, and that sigh turned into a yawn. She hadn't lied to Rock about having a trying day, and the fact she was exhausted. She rose to her feet and went to the door, checking that it was locked, then returned to the bed to fall into a deathlike sleep… too tired to even take off her armour.

Too tired to hear if anyone came to the door, and started picking the lock.

**

* * *

A/N:** Dun dun dun… Suggestions? Comments? Reviews? Happy to hear from you. 


	5. Pebble

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda rocks. Pallas salutes you!

* * *

Rock-In-The-River pulled himself up out of the water, using his claws to help him climb the sloping stone walls of Vivec's canals. True, he could have just walked to the Arena, but the four Dunmer who were in the tavern were watching him. They had probably followed him out. Besides, Rock-In-The-River was a faster swimmer than he was a runner. 

Rock shook the water from his frills, then headed through the maze of walls and watchful Ordinators for the secret door that would take him to the Morag Tong's headquarters.

Eno Hlaalu was not very happy to see him. "Have you killed that Bosmer yet, Argonian?"

Rock-In-The-River shook his head. "Not yet, sera, but I have some questions for you."

"For me?" Eno seemed amused. "What could I possibly have to say that would help you, Blind Thrall?"

Rock-In-The-River did not even blink. "I need a list of every Writ currently outstanding, as well as those who have already been collected."

The Guildmaster raised an eyebrow, no longer in good humour. "That's very presumptuous of you, Argonian. How, exactly, does this help you in your assignment?"

"The Bosmer only attacks those with writs on their head," Rock-In-The-River said bluntly. "And I need to know why."

"You don't need to _know_ anything," Eno said, calm and cold. "You just need to kill the Bosmer, and kill her now. That is your assignment, lizard, and I expect you to follow it through to completion."

Rock-In-The-River lifted his eyes from the floor. The time for being subservient was over. "Master, you must give me the list of writs. I need to know where she will strike next."

Eno's eyes widened in surprise. "You think she will strike again?"

"I have no doubt of it." Rock-In-The-River said coolly.

"And you can do nothing?" Eno hissed.

Rock-In-The-River stared him down. "Not until I know more about who the Mad Elf is, and why she is doing this."

Eno turned away, running a hand through his hair and muttering to himself. Rock-In-The-River waited patiently. Finally, the Morag Tong Guildmaster turned back to face the Argonian.

"Alright," he said, "I'll give you the list." His face twisted sourly. "Just stop her before she tortures anyone _important_. We don't want any more of those rumours spreading around."

"Rumours, sera?" Rock-In-The-River frowned, confused. "What rumours?"

The bitterness in Eno's face increased. "Rumours that the Morag Tong are not as upright as they appear. Rumours that we now torture those we are sent to execute." The Dunmer pulled a few yellowed pieces of paper from out of his desk drawers and handed them to Rock-In-The-River. "Rumours that the 'Mad Elf', as you call her, is working for the Webspinner. Or at least, for those who serve her."

Rock-In-The-River bowed to the Guildmaster, careful not to tear the paper with his claws. "I will do my best to finish what I started, sera. And I intend to come out of this assignment alive." He started backing away, respectfully.

"Blind Thrall."

Rock-In-The-River lifted his head. "Yes, master?"

Eno Hlaalu grunted, grudging respect. "I didn't know you had such a backbone in you." He gestured to the papers that Rock held in his hands, his eyes locked on Rock's eyes. "You've always been '_yes sera, no sera, three bags full sera_'… where did '_give me the writs_' come from?"

Rock-In-The-River didn't even blink. "You let me join the Morag Tong, sera. You should know the answer."

Eno Hlaalu narrowed his eyes, thoughtfully. "You are a puzzle, Argonian. But you have the makings of a true assassin."

Rock-In-The-River turned away. _You have no idea_…

* * *

The Argonian returned the Black Shalk, and immediately smelt danger on the air. The four Dunmer who had watched Destrina and himself with such animosity were gone. But their smell was not. Hatred and suspicion was still thick in the room. 

_Dey're still here_, Rock realised. He cast his eyes around, feeling panicked without knowing why. He headed for the room Destrina had rented. The room where she should be sleeping.

"By the Nine, you wouldn't think a girl like this weighed so much!"

Rock-In-The-River pulled up short as he came close to the corner. He heard the heavy rasping voices of Dunmer lowered in whispers. Harsh whispers, a tone which recalled for Rock-In-The-River whips, fear, and hard labour. And blood.

"Stop your whining."

"What if someone sees us?"

"Then we tell them that the lady is drunk, and we were escorting her back to her room."

"And who's going to buy that?"

"Anyone who wants to keep their lives, you dumb fetcher. Now, move."

Rock-In-The-River peered cautiously around the corner. The four Dunmer men were there… with Destrina! Two of them were half-carrying, half-dragging her, and the other two were keeping watch. They were dragging her to one of the rooms. A different one.

Rock pulled back, biting his tongue in indecision. The Redguard was already becoming more trouble than he needed! But he needed an ally to help him defeat the Mad Elf… He'd have to help her. He had no choice - he had to save Destrina. Rock-In-The-River cast his eyes about again, checking that no-one was looking his way. No-one was - they were all too busy with their drinks.

Good.

Rock-In-The-River closed his eyes, and focused in his mind on a handful of stars, and the shape they made in the night sky. He felt the power surge through him. Silently, he rounded the corner and walked behind the Dunmer men, keeping close and silent. He readied his blade, and prayed that those Dunmer would not scream too loudly when he killed them.

"Should we kill her now?"

"You have your orders. Not until we know what she knows."

Rock-In-The-River pulled back, confused. Know what she knows? What were they talking about? He stared at Destrina's unconscious form as it was slowly dragged into the next room. What did she know? And what about? Mad Elf? He frowned at the Dunmer who were kidnapping her. They were no Morag Tong agents… so how did they know about the Mad Elf?

Did they know about the Mad Elf at all? Rock-In-The-River silently cursed himself - he'd allowed himself to choose and ally without knowing anything about her! For all he knew, Destrina was a wanted criminal. Or worse.

But he had to save her. He needed her help. He needed what she knew. He needed…

To kill the Mad Elf. That was his assignment. Kill the Mad Elf, and stay alive long enough to report to Eno Hlaalu about it. He didn't need Destrina's help.

The Dunmer had the Redguard in the room now. They were propping her on a chest. One Dunmer stood in the doorway, peering out at the corridor. He didn't see Rock-In-The-River, but the Argonian saw him. And he also saw the instruments of torture a second Dunmer was pulling out of his pack.

He should just walk away. Now. But could he?

He didn't have much time. The power was already leeching from him. Rock-In-The-River's throat frill blossomed with red, and shook with indecision. Finally, swallowing his pride, he sheathed his sword and made for the door.

Just as the Dunmer was closing the door, Rock-In-The-River knocked politely. Inside, four Dunmer men jumped guiltily.

And Rock-In-The-River came back into sight.

"What d'you want, slave?" The Dunmer sentinel sneered down at Rock-In-The-River, blocking the sight of Destrina with his body.

The Argonian cringed pitifully. "A thousand 'pologies, great sera, but dis one has great favour to ask."

Behind the door, the Dunmer were trying to move Destrina further into the room. She was waking up.

"Yeah?" The Dunmer sneered. "And what would that be?"

"Where am I?" A sleepy Destrina slurred. That was all the signal that Rock needed. He pushed past the door guard and rushed to Destrina's side.

"Oh, lady, lady, lady!" He burbled and fawned over her. "Here you are! Safe you are! Much worried you made poor Pebble! Pebble was so worried!" And the Argonian nearly burst into tears.

Destrina blinked. Rock-In-The-River was acting very strange. And Pebble? Why was he calling himself Pebble? She looked around, still drowsy. She became instantly alert when she saw one of the Dunmer surreptitiously slide a jagged blade under the bed with his foot. And again when she saw the scowls on four vaguely familiar Dunmer faces.

"Oh, you made Pebble so scared!" Rock-In-The-River continued, "Coming back with drinks to find lady gone!" He gave a small wail. "Must have been Pebble's fault, lady, that the door was not locked! Pebble knows how badly lady sleepwalks! Pebble should have been much more careful!"

Destrina realised Rock-In-The-River's game - he was saving her life. She reached out to pat him on the head, between the frills. "It's alright, Pebble, it's not your fault…"

Rock cringed from her, as though he were a slave expecting her to beat him. "Please! Lady, dis is so very much so Pebble's fault!" He turned to grab the nearest Dunmer, and hung onto the man's boots. "Pebble thanks you, mighty great sera, for finding my lady, and keeping her safe! Thankyou, thankyou, sera!"

The Dunmer kicked Rock away, then looked to the Dunmer still standing in the doorway, as if to ask 'now what?' Certainly, Rock-In-The-River's appearance had thrown everything out of order for them.

Destrina rose to her feet, still unsteady. Rock-In-The-River also rose, still spouting childish slave phrases of apologies and gratefuls, and helped her out the door. He continued his act as they headed down the corridor. The Dunmer, it seemed, were over their shock at being discovered. They did not think a slave would cause them much trouble. They would try to take the Redguard by force now.

"Yell at me," Rock-In-The-River hissed out of the corner of his mouth. Destrina did not have time to think much. She said the first thing that came to her mind.

"You _should_ have been more careful! You know how _embarrassing_ this is for me?"

Rock scrambled to a stop, then knelt in front of Destrina. "Oh, no, no, no! Lady, please! Forgive! Do not kick me! My ribs, dey still ache!" He cringed, bowing in front of her. "Not kick me, please!"

Destrina kicked Rock-In-The-River in the side. He wailed, and rolled onto his back, still pleading for Destrina not to hurt him. Destrina kicked him again, and again, then opened the door to her room and let herself in. Rock-In-The-River maintained his pleading, simpering slave act very convincingly. So convincingly, in fact, that Destrina felt he was going over the top.

"I didn't kick you that hard," she snapped. "Get inside. Now." She held the door open for him. Rock-In-The-River continued to burble his thanks and his apologies as he crawled on all fours into the room. And then he stood up, and straightened his clothes like nothing had happened.

Destrina half-turned, lips already framing a question to the Argonian as she swung the door closed behind her. But she did not move her hand out of the way fast enough. The heavy wooden door slammed tight on Destrina's fingers.

"Dignified," Rock commented dryly, as Destrina curled into a ball on the floor, her fingers to her stomach, stifling a cry. The Argonian shut the door the rest of the way quietly, hoping no-one had heard the door reverberating. At least the woman had the sense not to scream in pain.

"Who…" Destrina's face twisted in pain, "Who were they?"

"I do not know," Rock-In-The-River admitted with a shrug. "But they were trying to kidnap you."

"And where were you when this was going on?" She accused.

Rock sighed. "Here, let me see dat." He knelt down and held out his hand.

Destrina examined her fingers. "It's nothing. They're fine."

"Let me see." Rock-In-The-River repeated, and Destrina slowly held her hand out. The Argonian examined the Redguard's fingers carefully. Given the force with which Destrina had slammed the door, she was lucky her fingers were not broken. The index and the middle fingers were swollen, marked in a long thing red line where the wood of the door had slammed hardest.

"You know," Destrina said, "It might've been funny if it didn't happen to me." She took her hand back from Rock-In-The-River. "How do they look?"

"You are, as you said, fine." He rose to his feet.

"Sorry for kicking you." Destrina said, shame-faced.

Rock-In-The-River just shrugged. "You did what you had to do. I did what I had to do. Dat is all." He managed a slight smile. "And, as you said, lady, you did not kick me hard at all." The smile vanished from his face. "Dose men knew you, Redguard."

Destrina flexed her fingers. "So it would seem."

"And you know them."

"I might."

Rock-In-The-River helped her to her feet, then pinned her against the wall. His snout in her face, he peered at her. His throat frill filled with a vivid scarlet, and the frills on his head spread wide in a display that, to other Argonians, signalled dominance and aggression. It meant little to a Redguard.

"What are you doing?" She asked, alarmed.

"I am trying to see who you are," Rock said calmly, meeting her gaze squarely. "You could be a criminal, owing important people money, which is why you were kidnapped with the intention of torture."

"That's not…"

"Or," Rock-In-The-River continued, breathing in her scent, "You are a warrior. A warrior who has perhaps said or done something which may offend someone very important." She smelt of steel and herbs, cloth and gold. And magic.

Destrina pushed the Argonian away. "Why do you even care?" She snapped. "I thought you just wanted me to help you kill Mad Elf."

He watched her carefully. "That was your decision," Rock pointed out. "You wanted to kill the Mad Elf, and you simply found me looking for her. And you asked to join me"

"But you're the one who said I could."

Rock-In-The-River sighed - Redguards were notorious for being stubborn; almost as bad as Nords, sometimes. "I never actually agreed to you helping me. I simply said that we should talk."

Destrina gaped at him. She obviously hadn't considered that point.

"Besides," Rock-In-The-River said breezily, "You seem to be busy with an assignment of your own." He narrowed his eyes at the Redguard. "Who are you working for? And what are you doing?"

Destrina snorted, rolling her eyes. "What does it matter? We're both hunting the Mad Elf now."

Rock-In-The-River tried not to seethe. The woman was impossible. "Until I know who you are," he hissed, "You're not hunting anything."

"You don't have the power to make that decision for me. I'm coming, whether you like it or not." Destrina threw the bedroll at him. "Get some sleep, Argonian." She lay down on the bed with her back to Rock-In-The-River and feigned sleep, ignoring him.

Women. Rock spread the blanket over the ground, fighting with his temper. Never before had he been so tested. His assignment was troublesome enough - he had to kill one woman, savage though she may be - without the interference of another woman!

And he did not _need_ to _sleep_! And now that those Dunmer knew that the Redguard was not alone, they would try and kill him too. Stupid Redguard! More trouble! He would keep watch - he valued his hide. And it was the least he could do for the woman. But he would owe her for this. Rock-In-The-River curled up on the ground, nosetip-to-tailtip, and tried to push the thoughts from his mind. But one kept playing over and over again.

Rock-In-The-River noticed that not once during that whole 'conversation' had Destrina been able to meet his eyes. She was hiding something. Something important.


	6. A Plan

**Disclaimer**: I take no responsibility for Bethesda Software. I take full responsibility for the characters.

* * *

Destrina stared at the wall, biting her lip. The exhaustion she'd felt only minutes before was gone. The adrenaline coursing through her veins was enough to keep her wide awake… and on edge. 

How could she hunt the Mad-Elf, and at the same time, continue her assignment? You could never chase two rabbits, the saying went - you always lost at least one of them. If she hunted down this Mad-Elf to satisfy this sense of injustice, she could lose the only leads she had. And then she would have to start from scratch, all over again, following a cold trail.

Or, if she completed her assignment now, the Mad-Elf could murder more people, more important people. And she would forever have this feeling in her gut that she could have done more. That she should have done more. Orders or no orders, Destrina preferred to live by her morals. She had left the Fighter's Guild because of them, and she hadn't looked back. She took up this assignment because she knew that… it had to be done.

She was obviously on the right track if assassins had been sent after her. And not just any assassins - close 'friends' of hers. Ones who had introduced themselves, offered to take her on a tour around the city. She had trusted them. Well, not anymore. You couldn't trust anyone in Vivec. No-one was above suspicion.

Even the Argonian?

Destrina rolled over and stared at the ceiling. That Argonian had just saved her life. He'd told her the secrets of the Mad-Elf - would any Morag Tong agent have done the same? - and he'd almost accepted the offer of her helping him.

Would she help him? Could she? Or would she be chasing rabbits?

In the dark, Destrina heard Rock-In-The-River roll over, muttering to himself in his sleep. If he was asleep, Destrina reasoned, it would be safe. She pulled her diary out from under her tunic and rolled back to face the wall. Cupping her hands around the journal, she whispered word. The pages of the journal glowed dully, enough to see by. Destrina scratched her finger along the pages, and the words appeared as though she was writing with a well-inked quill.

'_Johorn and his three friends tried to kill me tonight. If it wasn't for _

She paused. Should she enter Rock's name? Would it be too risky? She continued,

_a slave who found me, I would be dead. Tortured and dead. I must be getting warmer.'_

Rock-In-The-River gave a snort and rolled over again. Destrina covered the journal and held her breath, waiting to see if he would wake. He didn't. She continued to write.

'_I'm in the wilds again, just as my mentor told me I would be. But I'm chasing rabbits. Which rabbit to chase? And where will they lead me?'_

"Where will what lead you?" A voice asked pleasantly.

Destrina yelped, and sat upright. The light from a lantern slowly flooded the room, illuminating the slightly-unsettling smile of Rock-In-The-River.

"I thought you were asleep," The Redguard said weakly.

"Where will _what_ lead you?" Rock-In-The-River asked again. "Who is your mentor?"

Destrina extinguished the magical light and put her journal back under her tunic. "That is none of your business."

"You try my patience, Redguard," Rock said calmly, "If you wish to 'chase rabbits', as you said, then you must tell me everything."

"You could be a spy," Destrina said, putting on a bravado she really didn't feel.

Rock-In-The-River merely raised an eyebrow and set the lantern down on the table. "A spy? What would you know dat would possibly be worth spying on?"

Destrina opened and shut her mouth several times, trying to find some way of covering up what she had just admitted. Rock sighed wearily.

"Listen, Destrina," he said, heavily emphasising the 'stri' in her name, "I have a job to do. I have to kill de Mad Elf. Dat is all." He shrugged, then sat down on the floor. "You, however, came to Vivec for another reason.."

Destrina sat up slowly. "What do you know about me, anyway?"

Rock-In-The-River met her gaze calmly. "Your scent is…unfamiliar to me. You are a warrior, but a herbalist; you are woman who prides herself on appearance, but also on the practicality that comes from lack of coin. And you smell strongly of magic." He tilted his head. "Who are you working for?"

Destrina met the Argonian in the eye. "How did you know that about me?" She said, her voice uncertain.

"Your scent," Rock-In-The-River said shortly. "Who are you working for?"

Destrina sighed. "Alright. I work for the Imperial Cult. I'm investigating smuggling."

Rock-In-The-River looked surprised. "That's it?" He stared at her. "You're investigating the smugglers in Vivec?" He gave a short chuckle. "That is not great secret. Everyone knows about the smugglers."

Destrina looked downtrodden.

Rock suddenly felt sorry for her. "Listen, Redguard, I will help you find dee smugglers. And you shall help me hunt Mad-Elf." He tilted his head sideways to consider her. "You help me, I help you. Den, we both happy, we both fulfil our orders. Agreed?"

"I guess so," Destrina said, scuffing her feet on the floor. She looked up at Rock. "You're sure that the smuggling is well known?"

"Well-known to all who live here, sera," Rock replied. "Spoken of in hushed whispers. Tolerated because de Three Houses have great wealth, and wish to keep it that way. They hold their power very tightly."

"So much for my great conspiracy theory," the Redguard said bitterly. "It's just everyday smuggling and corruption."

Rock-In-The-River shrugged. "My orders make little sense either, except for dee integrity of my guild."

Destrina sighed. "Alright." She dismissed her depression. "What did you find out while you were gone?"

Rock pulled the papers carefully out from his tunic. He'd almost forgotten about them. Luckily, they were still intact. Destrina hadn't kicked him hard enough to tear them. "Dese are lists of all writs outstanding… and writs dat have been collected already." He spread them out on the ground, and peered at them carefully. Destrina picked the lamp off the table and knelt down beside Rock-In-The-River.

"What do you expect to find?" She asked.

"Something," Rock said, "Anything." He pointed to a name. Ishran Telvanno. "This one… I was called to execute him. Mad-Elf found him first."

Destrina examined the pages. "The Morag Tong agent who came in called the other man Kalereb Hulaara." Rock tapped the name directly under Ishran Telvanno's with a clawed finger. Destrina frowned. "One from House Hlaalu, one from Telvanni?"

Rock shook his head, his frills whispering in the air. "No. They were both from House Telvanni." He pointed to the information next to the names.

"But Kalereb…" Destrina stopped, her frown smoothing itself out. "If he wasn't born into a House, then he must have hired himself on as a Retainer." Destrina looked sideways at the Argonian. "Mad-Elf murders Telvanni members? You think she works for one of the other Houses?"

_Works for another House? She doesn't _work_ for anyone!_ Rock-In-The-River scanned the rest of the names, trying not to think of the Bosmer's eyes, the eyes that would haunt his nightmares. "Doubtful," he said calmly, "but it is the only link we have. She has, after all, only killed two people. So far," he added darkly.

"Why were they ordered for execution? Any links there?"

Rock checked. "No," he said. "Kalereb insulted a powerful wizard, and Ishran cheated a merchant of House Redoran." He tapped the papers thoughtfully. "So far, the only link between de victims is dat dey both belonged to House Telvanni. Dat is all we have."

"So, what do you propose?" Destrina asked him.

Rock-In-The-River sighed resignedly. "Either we let her torture someone again so we have some kind of link between dee victims… or we set a trap."

"A trap?"

The Argonian shrugged. "You have a better idea?"

Destrina frowned, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Alright," she said finally, "Let's do it."

* * *

Mad-Elf stretched and yawned, then shook the dew out of her hair. With a contented chirrup, she looked around. The early-morning mist was playing across the water, the sunlight shooting in rays through the trees. It was beautiful. 

Sleeping outdoors has its advantages. But the Bosmer cared nothing for the view. She looked down, where an unwary kagouti was sharpening its tusks against the trunk of the tree she had been sleeping in.

She laughed.

The animal snorted, and peered around. It was hungry, and it was angry. The sound prey made the kagouti angrier, seeing as the prey was nowhere in sight. It wanted meat, and it wanted meat now.

It didn't think to look up. If it had, it would have seen Mad-Elf leaping out of the tree, spreadeagled, her golden blade in one hand. And it would have heard her crowing with triumph at the sight of blood.

Afterwards, she leant up against the tree trunk and sucked on a piece of the creature's ribs. Mad-Elf was a creature of leisure, now. She could afford to whatever she wished. She had plenty of time to kill. Not that she understood the concept of time anymore. There was just light and dark, alive and dead.

Threat and prey.

Mad-Elf frowned slightly. The female and the scales she had seen. They weren't threat or prey. Mad-Elf wanted to know what they were. She wouldn't be able to find out from here.

It was nice in the wilds. There was plenty of prey and there were no threats. But if she wanted to find out what the not-prey-not-threats were, she would have to go back into the city.

Mad-Elf looked up at the city of Vivec, and made a whimpering noise in her throat.

The city was full of threats.

**

* * *

A/N: More coming soon. I'm just slack because I have school. **


	7. Slaves

**Disclaimer**: All Morrowind stuff belongs to Bethesda Software. Rawk.

**A/N**: Sorry this took so long! I'll be faster next time!

* * *

Rock and Destrina peered around the corner, keeping perfectly still. They watched the procession slowly make its way into the city. A normal trade-goods caravan. Or so it seemed. What normal caravan was tended by twelve different slaves and watched by very suspicious and warlike Dunmer? 

Destrina was making notes in her journal, scratching the pages with a fingernail. Rock-In-The-River was intrigued by this casual - albeit practical - use of magic, but it did not seem right to ask about it. Besides, there was something definitely wrong with this caravan. It demanded his attention more than a book.

"I've seen those men before," Destrina whispered.

Rock-In-The-River nodded, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Smugglers. See how dee slaves are struggling wid deh crates? Ebony, surely, and perhaps Daedric and Dwemer weapons also." Rock scented the air, and snorted. "Spells on the crates to make dem lighter. But not light enough." He snorted again. The smell of hopelessness and despair from the slaves was unsettling. And all too familiar.

Destrina watched the slaves with a frown. "Something isn't right about this," she said, her anger fading under barely concealed confusion. "Something doesn't feel right."

Rock-In-The-River cast his eyes over the caravan, watching as it slowly crawled through the city streets. Every few moments, a trader would branch off to take a different path through the city, escorted by their burly guards and their struggling slaves. Like all smugglers, these men and women maintained a veneer of respectability and traded legitimate items along with illegal goods. The Ordinators could do nothing but look on with polite placid faces, their scowls hidden behind their masks. The Three Houses ruled Vivec, despite the god residing in his locked palace. The Three Houses decided what was Law.

But Destrina was right. Something about this smuggler's procession was wrong. Rock-In-The-River scented the air again, trying to discern what it was. Nothing out of the ordinary reached his nostrils - sweat, blood, alcohol, travel rations; misery, suspicion, greed, smugness, gold-lust and fear. These were smugglers, their guards and their slaves. So why the feeling that something…

Destrina snapped her book shut as the caravan dispersed and scattered. "Should we follow them?" She paused. "Well, one of them, at least?"

"Which House do you suspect dee most?" Rock-In-The-River said, unable to take his eyes from the scrawny form of a male Bosmer, struggling beneath two creaking crates. If not for the hidden enchantments that held the crates together and lightened them somewhat, that poor Bosmer would have been dead long ago. As it was, he did not look like he had much life left in him.

"Not Redoran," Destrina said. "Other than that…" She bit her lip. "Telvanni."

Rock-In-The-River looked at the Redguard, and raised an eyebrow. "Is dat because you suspect them for smuggling, or because of dee Mad-Elf murders?"

Destrina slid her journal back in her tunic. "It's a fifty-fifty chance that Telvanni is the House behind the smuggling that I was ordered to investigate, Rock. Besides, the Telvanni are famous for their magic. They are the only ones who could cast a spell powerful enough to lighten a crate of Daedric weapons."

"Perhaps."

Rock-In-The-River looked back around the corner. The Bosmer slave was struggling, but a snap from the slavemaster's whip made him stagger. The head merchant looked down at the elf with disgust.

"Move faster, s'wit!" The Dunmer merchant barked. "I won't be delayed because of the weakness of one slave!"

The Bosmer tried to drag himself faster, both crates balanced on his bowed back. The slavemaster cracked his whip again - the Bosmer nearly cried out as the leather drew blood across his legs. Despite the pain the poor elf kept going. The merchant made a noise of disgust, but strode on, leaving the slavemaster and the guards to deal with it.

The other slaves just kept their heads down, but moved almost imperceptibly faster under their burdens. They did not want to be punished the way the Bosmer was.

_A Bosmer_… _A Bosmer slave_…

"Rock-In-The-River?" Destrina shook him gently by the shoulder. "Rock, are you even listening to me?"

Rock pointed at the thin pale slave. "What do you see?"

Destrina looked, then frowned and returned her gaze to Rock-In-The-River's enraged eyes. "Slaves. It's horrible, but with those guards, Rock, I can't do anything. Besides, I don't have the authority to free them. My assignment…"

"Look closer," Rock hissed, his throat-frill blossoming dark pink. "Look at the slaves!"

Destrina looked. She didn't see it for a moment, but then her mouth dropped open with shock. Slowly, she began shaking with anger, and the Argonian had to place a strong claw on her arm to stop her from charging forward and dashing the slavemaster's brains out with her mace.

There were seven slaves in total in this part of the now-dissembled caravan. But there was no Argonian or Khajiit among them. The slaves were some of the members of the so-called 'Free Races': two Redguards, two Imperials, and two Bretons - male and female of each - along with the male Bosmer slave.

"Those FILTHY…"

Rock-In-The-River pulled Destrina back out of sight as the caravan disappeared around a corner. "As you said, Destrina," he said dryly, "You do not have the authority to free them."

"But those are Redguards! Those are my people!"

Rock-In-The-River gave a hiss that ended the argument. "And how do you think _I_ feel whenever I see my brothers and sisters of dee Black Marsh under their whips, Redguard? No," he let go of her arm, "You wait. You watch. You plan." He scowled at her. "Precious liddle else you _can_ do."

"But…" Destrina's protests faded. She steeled herself with a breath. "Now what?"

Rock's tongue flickered. "We follow them. I have dere scent." And slowly, he faded from sight.

Destrina watched, wide-eyed, as Rock-In-The-River disappeared. "By the goddess…" Where the Argonian once stood was now nothing but air.

"Are you coming?" His disembodied voice asked, "I cannot hide like this forever."

"I can't even see you!"

Rock sounded pleased. "Good. You are not meant to." He paused. "Follow me."

"How?"

The Argonian sighed. "Follow deh sound of my footprints, Redguard."

Destrina listened, and heard the sound of Rock's padding footsteps. Moving quietly herself, she followed the sound, keeping half an eye on the caravan.

The slaves plodded along the road, hurried by the slavers and the shouts of the impatient merchants. Destrina could not help but wonder why no-one was curious about the strange variation of slaves - wouldn't Dunmer notice that the usual array of Khajiit and Argonians was replaced? Why did no-one see the difference?

There was a whistle from at the head of the caravan. The head merchant lifted his hands, and waved them lazily over the heads of the slaves. Though they staggered on, the slaves seemed to shimmer and change.

"What in Molag Bal's unholy name?" Destrina stared. The slaves had transformed into Khajiit and Argonians as she'd watched. Magic! A minor enchantment. But why?

An Ordinator came around the corner. He saw the procession, nodded brusquely at the head merchant, then marched on.

"Paid to heed no mind to dee merchants," Rock's voice murmured thoughtfully. Destrina thought she could see the Argonian's vague outline against the smooth stone walls. "But obviously, dey are not paid so much that they would not 'not-notice' Redguard, Imperial and Breton slaves."

Destrina clenched her teeth as Rock-In-The-River faded back into sight. "But why hide them now? Why not keep them hidden all the time? Surely, someone like us might notice."

"Oh, yes?" Rock shook his frills. "And what would someone like us _do_, Lady Redguard? Report it to the guards? They'd think us liars or madmen. Take matters into our own hands? Dat's what de bodyguards are for. We'd be cut down…" He hissed, then composed himself. "Dis is your mission. What should we do?"

"I need proof that the House Telvanni is smuggling goods." Destrina said, dragging her eyes away from the transformed slaves. "I need proof."

"A ledger, perhaps?" Rock smiled slightly. "I could help you wid dat."

Destrina nodded. "Yes. That would help me. Thankyou."

"Don't thank me until after I have brought you back your book." Rock-In-The-River peered around the corner again. "And you shall have it. It will not take long."

Destrina frowned. "Well, what shall I do until then?"

Rock looked back, seemingly unconcerned. "Get some sleep? You seem fond of that."

Destrina pulled a face. "Very humorous. No, thankyou. What if something happened to me? Like before?"

Rock paused, and seemed to be thinking. "Listen," he said finally, almost grudgingly, "Far south of Vivec, across the water, there is a ship. It crashed on a sandbar many years ago. That is my home. You may stay there, as long as you tell no-one where it is."

Destrina stared. "I won't. Thankyou for your generosity."

Rock-In-The-River shrugged, then turned his attention back to the caravan. "I will meet you there." He stepped out from behind the corner and vanished, but Destrina heard his feet against the stone as he hurried to catch up with the caravan. She watched the caravan as it moved up into the Telvanni section, then turned to go.

Rock-In-The-River. He worked for the Morag Tong, yet he was willing to help her. Why? She didn't know. Ever since she had run into him, that Argonian seemed to have become part of her life. Or she part of his. Either way, nothing seemed clear - why was she helping him, and why he her? Was it really because they needed each other's help? Or was there something else?

Destrina felt shivers down her spine. Someone was watching her. She carefully cast her eyes around, and saw a stealthy shadow behind her. She stopped, and turned to look back. The shadow was gone.

"I know you're there." Destrina said loudly. "If you have a quarrel with me, show yourself."

Nothing. Silence and nothing. Destrina frowned. "Come on, Johorn. If you want to kill me, now's the time."

The challenge went unanswered.

Destrina turned back and started walking a little faster. Far, far south of Vivec, a ship caught on a sandbar. She knew water-walking spells. She could run there. She could hide and be safe.

But then Rock would lose his home if others knew about it. And she didn't want that. Rock had trusted her with the secret of his home, and she would not betray it. She had to run elsewhere, and then cross to Rock's ship after she had lost her pursuers.

Destrina broke into a jog, then a run, heading for the bridge that connected the city with the wild. She could lose her pursuers in the forest. Then she would go and wait for Rock-In-The-River, and the hunt for Mad Elf would continue.

The stone beneath her feet gave way to dirt and grass, and her footsteps were muted. The Redguard ducked and swerved between the trees, moving further and further from the city. She looked back. The shadow following her had company. And they were gaining. The same ones who tried to kidnap her in the tavern, no doubt. Johorn and his friends come to finish what they started.

Well, she wasn't going to let them catch her this time. She had a mission to complete, and by the stars, she was not going to let some arrogant Dunmer men disrupt her quest to find and solve…

A tree-root grabbed Destrina's foot, and she stumbled. She barely had time to right herself before Johorn was there, a blade at her throat. The other three surrounded her, blades ready and faces savage. She struggled, but she was outnumbered and unprepared.

"You've been a nuisance for far too long, Redguard." He hissed, pinning her facedown into the grass, "But you've made yourself very useful just now. Out here," he laughed and gestured to the trees, "Who is going to hear you scream?"

* * *

Rock-In-The-River followed the caravan, occasionally lifting the heavy burden of coin from the slavers and the merchants. Rock was not picky. Money was money, no matter where it came from. And when it came from filthy slavers… well, you'd better just take everything you can get your claws on. He tucked a few bottles of strange herbal alcohol into his tunic - perhaps later Destrina could tell him what they were. She was a healer, after all, and worked with herbs. She would know. 

The caravan stopped. The burdened slaves - still covered with the illusion - lifted their crates onto the head-merchant's cart. Each one was flanked by a slaver guard, and watched carefully. After they had unloaded the crates, the slaves were harried back towards the slavers' carts, where they were shackled together. The crates on the slaver's cart were not enchanted - one sniff told Rock-In-The-River that those crates held only food and iron. Nothing illegal. The head merchant got the alcohol, the Daedric and Dwemer weapons and the ebony, but the slaver got the slaves? What if the merchant wanted to unload his goods? And wouldn't the merchant want to sell the slaves? _What is going on?_

The head merchant held up his hand. "I want the goods to hit the market by morning," he told the slavers, "And as for the rest, I want them in the usual place."

The head slaver nodded obsequiously. "Of course, sera."

"And I want them alive and healthy before tonight," the head merchant said loftily. "Especially the females. The last one escaped, and our benefactor was not pleased. You will be seeing him tonight, by the way. He will be inspecting the goods. They had better be to his liking."

"Understood, sera."

The head merchant sniffed, then led his cart on. The now-unburdened slaves stayed behind, with the head slaver and his carts. Rock-In-The-River looked between the split caravan, puzzled. To follow the head merchant would certainly lead to the ledger that detailed the smuggling, just like Destrina wanted, but… 'the benefactor'? Was there some power behind the Houses' smuggling? To find proof of this would see Destrina's quest answered ten-fold, and perhaps then something would be done about the smuggling.

But the way the merchant spoke suggested that the 'benefactor' wanted the _slaves_ themselves, not the illegal items. Someone was paying for slaves? Well, yes, obviously, but these weren't slaves.

These were members of the free races.

Rock-In-The-River frowned, looking between the merchant and the slaver caravan, trying to decide which one to follow. He promised Destrina a ledger, a record of the smuggling. But here was an opportunity he could not pass up. A possible way to end the slavery in Vivec, as well as to sate his own curiosity.

Rock-In-The-River followed carefully behind the head slaver. He wanted to meet this 'benefactor' for himself. Keeping behind the shackled slaves and watching out of one eye to make sure he did not bump into the bodyguards, Rock followed the slaver caravan deep into the Telvanni section of the city.

**

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A/N:** More soon! 


	8. Slaughter

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda owns Morrowind.

**A/N**: Yay! More story to read!

* * *

As the caravan moved deeper into the stone-vaulted walls of the Telvanni section of Vivec, Rock-In-The-River felt his power fading, so kept to the shadows and moved lightly so he would not be noticed. None of the slavers seemed particularly concerned about being followed, however, but Rock still did not lower his guard. 

The corridors were narrowing, and Rock-In-The-River was forced to creep close to the slaves. The Redguard woman he crept behind seemed to sense something, but she did not stop and turn - she would have been flogged.

_This woman looks nothing like Destrina_, Rock thought, feeling some measure of surprise. For the longest time, Rock had been unable to tell one face from another - it was only those of his race he could distinguish between. _Perhaps all this time being free has accustomed me to seeing differences in their faces. Everyone is different now_.

Destrina had different hair than this slave, besides - thick black braids in rows along her skull, her hair cropped off just below her ears. And the shape of her face and the position of her eyes… Rock shook himself as the slavers passed through a doorway and down a long set of stairs.

Two burly guards waited by one of the fountains of waste water, flanking an older Telvanni man in wizard's robes. Rock-In-The-River drew back, not willing to be discovered by the power of magic. He crouched down and let the caravan and the weary slaves pass him by; he waited, and watched.

"Is this all of them?" The wizard sneered. The head slaver nodded, barely controlling his own arrogance. The wizard sighed. "Very well, then."

The slaver barked an order, and the slaves shuffled morosely into a ragged line. The wizard moved up the line, inspecting the slaves one by one, the slaver pointing things out like strength of limb, the strength of the eyes, the number of teeth, and so forth.

Rock-In-The-River watched with a frown. Was this wizard the mysterious 'benefactor'? And what did he want with these slaves?

Eventually, the wizard seemed satisfied. "See that they are fed well tonight." He looked sidelong at the slaver. "I trust that they won't complain?"

The slaver gave a savage smile. "Not without their tongues they won't."

The wizard looked only slightly pleased. "They can still make noises without their tongues."

The slaver glowered at the male Bosmer. "As this one demonstrated when he complained about his tasks. He'll be punished later."

The Bosmer fell to his knees, imploringly, moaning and gulping in his effort to speak. The slaver kicked the Bosmer in the face, and the slave fell back, grunting in pain, his nose broken and bloody. Rock barely held back a hiss.

The old wizard did not even seem to notice. "I'll take the Imperial male for now. I want them rested and fed well. Especially the females. Understood?"

The slaver bowed. "Understood, sera."

"Good." The wizard turned to go, then turned back. "Incidentally, have you found that escaped slave just yet?"

The slaver seemed loath to shake his head. "Not yet, sera, but we shall."

"Yes," the wizard agreed coldly, "You shall." He motioned to his bodyguards, and they gripped the arms of the Imperial man. The man struggled, calling out wordlessly. The Imperial woman tried to run to him, but she was restrained by the slaver's guards. Both Imperials cried and struggled, but they were separated. The slavers turned to a nearby doorway and pushed the slaves through. The cart was left just outside the door… disguising the room as another merchant's home.

Meanwhile, the wizard and his entourage rounded the corner. The Imperial was silent now, but he had to be dragged. It looked as though all the will to live had drained out of him.

Everything about this seemed jarringly wrong to Rock-In-The-River. He kept low to the ground as he followed after the wizard. Why split the slaves? Why take one? What was the purpose of all this? And what made the 'females' so important? Both the head merchant and that old wizard had insisted to the head slaver that the females were the most important. Why?

Rock could go no further. A Dunmer sentry was peering sharp-eyed around the corridors, missing nothing. A despondent-looking Argonian slave slumped against the wall behind the sentry, chained to the sentry's wrist by a collar. The wizard and his entourage entered in a door behind the sentry, and Rock heard the locks click home.

Rock-In-The-River turned and left the way he had come, puzzled and angered by the sights he had seen. He hadn't found a ledger for Destrina, but what he had found seemed somehow of greater importance. If only he knew why.

* * *

Destrina closed her eyes and waited for the steel to pierce her throat. 

A bird whistled in the tree above her. The laughter died.

Destrina opened her eyes, and turned her head slightly so she could see what had happened. Johorn and his cohorts had fallen silent, and were staring up at the boughs of the tree, their faces ashen and their eyes wild with fear.

The bird whistled again, and chills shuddered down Destrina's spine. That was no bird. As if to prove this point, a drop of blood, followed by another, and another and another, hit the grass in front of her. The smell of it was strong and fresh and brought such fear to Destrina's mind she could barely think.

The Mad-Elf.

She swung down from the tree and landed, crouching, in the grass not three feet away, her back to Destrina. The Redguard saw the golden blade, and remembered the boy who had been killed - no, tortured - in front of her barely a day ago. The Mad-Elf rose slowly to her feet, her face out of the range of Destrina's sight as she turned to face Johorn.

She whistled and clicked her tongue - a language somehow more terrifying than a scream or a threat.

One of Johorn's friends bolted like a startled rabbit, and his flight spurred Destrina into action. Reaching back, she grabbed Johorn's wrist and twisted, making him scream and drop the blade. She kicked him aside, and

The Mad-Elf laughed, and leapt at him, blade first. Destrina scrabbled away before both of them fell on top of her. Mad-Elf's blade flashed, and Destrina felt Johorn's blood splash across her. Stendar's Teeth, it was in her _mouth_! She turned and ran, spitting as she went, catching up with Johorn's fleeing friends. They looked at her, too concerned with the saving of their own skins to care if she ran with them as an ally. And yes, they were allied - in terror.

A piercing whistle cut the air, and the lithe form of Mad-Elf - little more than a pale-brown blur - was keeping pace with them, leaping from tree branch to tree branch. One of Johorn's friends - the first one to flee - was too far ahead. He was separate from the rest of the group. With a mad cackle, Mad-Elf sprang at him, knocking him out of the path. His screams of fear turned to screams of fear and pleas for mercy as Destrina and the others ran past.

_Head for the city_, a thought planted itself in Destrina's panicked mind. _Flee from the Mad-Elf in the city_.

In her mind, Destrina focused on the shape of her Birthsign. As soon as she felt the stones of Vivec under her feet, she would call on that power and put that murdering Bosmer far behind her.

The city lay just ahead. Destrina felt the man who ran beside her stumble, and scream as he was pulled up into the trees by a laughing Mad-Elf. By Julianos, did she not tire? How was she keeping up? It was only Destrina and one other Dunmer, and he looked as terrified as she felt.

_Rock-In-The-River! Where are you? Help me! Please!_

Both Destrina and the Dunmer just crossed over into the Telvanni section when the Mad-Elf blurred past, and blocked their path. She crouched, her blade readied, her face bared in a savage grin.

Destrina forgot all purpose, all plans, everything, as she beheld Mad-Elf's face for the first time.

Bosmer sometimes have eyes that were all black, as deep and fathomless as the night sky. Mad-Elf did not have such eyes. Her eyes were huge. They were green and gold and black. They were white-less and pupil-less; they were nothing but colour but the colour of decay and death and madness. They were larger than any Bosmer eye could be within the realms of psychical possibility; they were cold and cruel and lifeless and _mad_.

The Dunmer screamed, and turned to run back into the forest. Destrina felt the Mad-Elf move past her in a blur of brown and red, and heard the Dunmer scream again. She tried to move, tried to run, but she could not. The Dunmer screamed again, and the sound made her start forward. Fear coursing through her veins, Destrina called desperately on the power of her Birthsign.

And she ran. She ran faster than she had ever run today. She ran and ran and ran… She heard a bird whistle, then felt foot across her shoulder blades. Destrina tumbled, falling to the stone banging her head and scraping her knees and elbows. Groaning, she tried to get to her feet. But there was Mad-Elf, her demonic eyes pinning Destrina in place like a butterfly on a board. Slowly, the Mad-Elf crept forward, on hands and knees, until she was crouched over Destrina. The Mad-Elf put her face in Destrina's, and grinned savagely. She chirped, then blinked slowly, as though assuring herself she had Destrina's attention.

"Hak-jula, grssh-han." She hissed, grinning, raising the blade over her head and twirling it with surprising dexterity. "Hak-jula!"

Destrina blinked, and the Mad-Elf was gone.

**

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A/N:** Dun dun dun! 


	9. Refuge

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda Software. Morrowind. Awesome.

**A/N**: The computer which had Morrowind on it before it exploded has been restored. Yay! I can play it again! This story is turning out a lot longer than I thought it would be… but hey, it works! And I'm having fun writing it, and that's all that really matters.

* * *

As he emerged, blinking, out of the underground section of the Telvanni section of the city, Rock-In-The-River smelt blood. Without a second thought, he started running towards the scent, his gut sinking as scenarios played themselves out in his head, all of them pointing to one thing. 

The Mad Elf had killed again.

There was a body alright, and it bore the same blade marks that indicated the Mad-Elf's work. Rock approached the corpse warily. He recognized the face of this victim - at least, the side of his face which had not been shredded. This was the face of the Dunmer who blocked the doorway only the night before - one of the Dunmer that had tried to kidnap Destrina. But there was a difference. Rock-In-The-River crouched down and peered at the corpse.

It looked like Mad-Elf had killed him in a hurry, and that the tearing of the Dunmer's face had been almost accidental. Mad-Elf had not targeted this Dunmer. Perhaps.

Rock-In-The-River looked around, wondering why the Mad-Elf had killed here, in the open. Yes, it was broad daylight, her preferred time… but this man had no writ on his head, and her preferred place of execution was in public. There was no-one around here…

A prone figure lay near a wall at the other end of the walkway, and Rock's heart leapt into his mouth at the sight.

"Destrina!" He leapt up and ran to her, dreading the sight of her mauled and tortured by that mad Bosmer's golden blade…

Once he reached her, he knelt by her side, looking for wounds and blood that was not there. Destrina's eyes were wide with fright, and she was frozen, staring at something that Rock-In-The-River could not see. There was a splatter of blood across her face and neck - obviously not her own - but other than that, she seemed to be unharmed. But she was so still… and her eyes were unseeing… Gently, Rock put a hand on Destrina's shoulder, and shook her.

"Destrina," he whispered, fearing the worst, "Are you alright?"

The Redguard's chest suddenly heaved as she took a shuddering, panicked breath. Her wide eyes turned, and focused on the Argonian. "I saw her." She breathed, her voice barely a whisper. She trembled with fear, but otherwise did not move.

Rock spared a brief glance over his shoulder at the corpse before turning his attention back to Destrina. "Come on," he murmured, trying to calm her, "We must go. Can you stand?"

Destrina did not reply, and her eyes turned back and focused on nothing. She continued to shake. "Her eyes…" She whispered.

Rock knelt down and put his arms around Destrina's shoulders, and pulled her to a sitting position. He was just about so pull her upright and help her to her feet when the Redguard suddenly wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. Her body was wracked by dry sobs as she tried to dispel the fear.

For a moment, Rock-In-The-River was too stunned to react. Then, he didn't know how to. He just let Destrina hold him - feeling awkward all the while - until she was able to compose herself and look him in the eye.

"S-s-s-sorry," she whispered, still trembling.

Rock-In-The-River shrugged, and hid his embarrassment by helping her to her feet. She moved like all her strength was gone, and took a few staggering steps before Rock-In-The-River halted her, and made her rest a while. "What happened?" Rock asked.

"The M-Mad-Elf," Destrina said, leaning up against the wall and breathing deep. "She… she s-saved my l-l-life."

This was the second shock that the Argonian had received in less than ten minutes. "She did _what_!" Destrina shook her head, conveying her mutual incomprehension and disbelief. Her eyes were still wide open; it was as though she feared to close them.

Comprehension slowly dawned on Rock-In-The-River. "Dat Dunmer back dere… He was one of deh men who wanted to kill you, yes?"

Destrina look a shuddering sigh, but nodded. "They ambushed me…She was in the trees…"

Rock frowned. "Trees? What trees?"

Destrina lifted a shaking hand and pointed eastward. She looked at Rock, somehow ashamed, and whispered in explanation, "I didn't want to lead them to your home…"

Again, Rock did not know how to react. She had protected him - his home - by risking her own life. And coming very close to losing it. Rock could think of a few reasons why she would do this, and neither one was very heartening. "Here, Redguard," he said brusquely, to conceal his awkwardness yet again, "You look like you need a drink." He pulled one of the flasks of alcohol out of his tunics. "I stole dis from deh slavers."

Destrina took the bottle gratefully, though her hands shook. She pulled out the cork and smelled the contents. A weak smile crossed her face. "Flin," she said, and her eyes were grateful as she took a sip. After a few more sips of the strengthening alcohol, she was able to stand without shaking, though her eyes were betrayingly unblinking.

Rock pulled the other bottles out of his tunic. "Here. Tell me what dese are."

Destrina focused on the bottles. "Cyrodiilic brandy," she said, her voice sure. The effect of the alcohol on her mind was showing in her concentration. "Expensive stuff. Where'd you get it?"

Rock managed a smile. "Stole them from the slaver carts."

Destrina leant up against the wall and shut her eyes briefly. "The slavers…" She opened her eyes and focused on Rock once more. "Did you get a ledger, or something?"

Rock-In-The-River shook his frills. "Apologies. Nothing like that. However." He held up a clawed finger. "I did find out much, and I have much to tell."

Destrina smiled back at Rock, though she was still ashen-faced. "Good. Thankyou. For everything," she added, in almost a whisper.

Rock's throat-frill blossomed a bright red. "Think nothing of it, Redguard. Come," he offered her his arm, "We must somewhere quieter to talk. And we must leave now, before deh guards find us." Destrina leant on his arm and allowed the Argonian to lead her to a gondola, not caring that he paid nor wondering where he found the money.

She kept seeing the Mad-Elf's eyes, and hearing her hiss '_hak-jula, grssh-han_' over and over in her head. Even the alcohol couldn't erase that from her mind.

* * *

As the gondolier poled the boat quietly through the channels, Rock-In-The-River found himself constantly watching Destrina's face. Though the trembling had subsided and her face had returned to its normal hue, she seemed withdrawn, lost in a dream or a thought. She still did not blink often; when she did, it was brief and almost unwilling. 

In the late afternoon sunlight, the gondolier pulled up to the gangway. Rock-In-The-River had to shake Destrina gently to stir her from the waking dream. Destrina cast her eyes around.

"This is the Foreign Quarter."

Rock nodded. "Yes. It is." He and Destrina climbed the pier's steps.

"We could have walked." Destrina pointed out.

Rock shook his head, his frills a pale pink. "No. We could not have." Rock gave a thoughtless-looking smile. "Come. We must find a place to rest." Destrina frowned, but said nothing. She followed the Argonian up through the stone walls that made up the huge Foreign Quarter section of the city.

"I'm fine, you know." Destrina tried to assure Rock. "She scared me, but I'm over that now."

Rock shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly. "Your eyes say otherwise." He blinked slowly, making a point. Destrina huffed, but did not disagree. She readjusted her armour and checked the mace that was at her side.

_Strange_, thought Rock-In-The-River suddenly. _She seems different somehow… Perhaps it is just the fear, the hard day…_ Rock shook himself. "We are here," he said, and opened the tavern door.

The Black Shalk Cornerclub. It wasn't much, but it was a place to lay one's head down for the night. Rock felt Destrina stiffen behind him.

"Is… _she_… coming here?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Rock turned to look at Destrina. "No. She is not. We came here because we need rest."

"We?" Destrina's eyes took a moment to focus on Rock's face. "As in, you? You need sleep?"

Rock pulled a face. "Yes, Redguard. I need sleep. And so do you. Stop complaining."

"But what if…" She stopped. Her eyes grew distant and her face grew pale again.

"Your assassins are dead," Rock said firmly, taking her by the shoulder and shaking her gently out of her reverie. "And there is none to harm you here."

Destrina turned her dark eyes to Rock-In-The-River, and whispered, "You don't know that."

Rock had no answer to that. He went to the barkeep and asked for a room. Yes, there was one spare. Yes, two separate beds in the one room, of course. Here's the key. Is the lady alright?

"Yes, she's fine. She's just tired." Rock gently herded Destrina into the room and shut and locked the door, leaving the key in place to prevent thieves from breaking in. No matter how he reassured Destrina, he knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

A chest at the foot of the bed - that would do. He dragged it across the door and used it to bar the door. No-one would get in now.

"Do you feel safer now?" Rock-In-The-River said, somewhat mockingly, as he turned to face Destrina. His words were wasted. She had fallen asleep leaning against the wardrobe. Rock shook his head, amused. "You must feel safer." Gently, he pulled the sleeping Redguard into his arms, and dragged her over to the nearest bed. He lay Destrina down, and pulled the blanket over her. After a moment's pause, he reached back down and tucked the blankets in, just in case she tossed in her dreams and dislodged the blanket. He felt surprised with himself for showing such sentiment, but the surprise passed. He knew what it was like to suffer in solitude. He wouldn't let Destrina suffer alone as he did. He'd keep watch over her and be there to chase away the nightmares.

_And she would have nightmares tonight_, Rock thought glumly, watching the rise and fall of the blanket as Destrina breathed. _She has seen the Mad-Elf's eyes._

Suddenly, Rock-In-The-River felt the last few days' worth of fatigue crash down on him; the image of the Mad-Elf's eyes burned into his mind. He'd tried so hard to forget that Bosmer's tortured face, that look of savagery in her eyes and the blood she licked off her lips… he'd thrown himself into work, distracted himself with Destrina's quest and other trivialities… but now, here, it was all coming crashing down on him. Two days without sleep was telling on his mind.

He had nothing. He had been sent on a suicide mission that was turning into a matter of honour, and he had nothing to go on. The Bosmer's attacks were seemingly random, and there was no way to predict when or where or who she would attack next. Her last attack was seemingly entirely in Destrina's defence… but why? Why, why, _why_ _why_ _WHY_?

Rock knelt down and rubbed at his eyes, no longer willing to fight the fatigue. He was ready to sleep, nightmares be damned. He went to the second bed and climbed up onto it. Disregarding the blankets, he curled sideways, and prepared to sleep. However, as he curled into a ball, his head resting on his tail, he felt something digging into his stomach. Frowning, he straightened out and reached into his tunic.

The writs from the Morag Tong. He'd forgotten about these, what with the slavers and the Mad-Elf… Rock stared uncomprehending at the papers for a minute, searching for something he could not see. Why was the Mad-Elf attacking these men? How and why did she chose her victims? Why torture them? Why did she spare - _save_ - Destrina's life? Nothing made sense - there were no answers. No answers in these sheets of paper, that was for sure. Rock shuffled through them, then started to roll them up.

Suddenly, he stopped. Wide awake now with fear and disbelief, he unrolled the list of writs one more time. Rock-In-The-River looked over at the sleeping form of Destrina, and felt like he'd been hit over the head with a mallet. He looked back at the list of writs, hoping and praying to every god and goddess that he had read wrongly. But there was no mistaking the name.

_Redguard healer Destrina Rashkani, member of the Imperial Cult. 1000 g.p_ _alive, 4500 g.p. dead_.


	10. Closer

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda Software owns Morrowind. Rawk.

* * *

Rock's eyelids flew open. Had he slept? Oh, by the Nine, had he _slept_? How long? Had something happened while he was sleeping? How could he have been such a fool! 

"Good morning, Rock!" Destrina's voice greeted him, accompanied by the sound of water splashing.

Rock uncurled from the floor next to Destrina's bed and sat up quickly. His muscles twanged and protested, but Rock-In-The-River ignored them.

A screen - a folding screen - was open, barring the corner from sight. The Redguard's clothes hung over the top of the screen. Her armour, her tunic, her undershirt, her breeches…

"I see the precautions you took," Destrina's voice seemed to be smiling. "Were you really that worried about me?"

Rock turned his head away from the screen, his throat frill blossoming a bright red. The 'precaution' Destrina spoke of was Rock-In-The-River's bed. After the Argonian had seen the writ notice, he'd taken no chances. He'd heaved the bed against the door and stood it up so that nothing - NOTHING - could POSSIBLY open the door from the outside. The bed looked like a soldier at attention. In a way, it was.

The mere fact that there was a bounty on Destrina's head meant someone would try to kill her. And the Morag Tong always knew where to find their prey. Always.

But _what_ was she _doing_?

"I'd always wondered about why there were those 'waterfalls' in the various indoor parts of the various cantons," Destrina said conversationally, "It makes sense that water is siphoned up to all parts of the cantons. Even all the way up to the roof. Incredible! And the 'waterfalls' are just the waste water going back into the canals. It makes sense."

"Destrina," Rock coughed politely. "May I ask what… Why are you…?" He coughed again, his frills flat against his head in embarrassment.

"There was a water pump here," Destrina said, and the water splashed some more, proving her point. "I figured I'd take a bath. I'm sorry if I woke you."

Rock coughed again, and this time the cough sustained itself a little bit longer than politeness would have asked. It almost sounded like he was choking. "A _what_?"

"A bath. Hells, I needed one."

Rock shut his eyes and buried his head in his hands. _Trees of the Mother, give me patience_. There was a Mad Elf murderer on the loose. There was some conspiracy involving slaves who weren't supposed to be slaves and the Telvanni wizards. There was a writ on Destrina's head that was four-and-a-half times larger if she died rather than lived. And _that woman _was_ taking a bath_. Rock could feel the beginnings of a rather savage headache crawling around in his skull.

And the sound of the water was suddenly making him realise how thirsty he was.

The Argonian lifted his head and stared resolutely at the opposite corner. It didn't help much - he had eyes on the side of his head, and could practically see everything behind him.

"Destrina," he croaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Destrina, I have something I must tell you."

"About the slaves?" Destrina said.

Rock's mouth worked up and down for a few seconds before the word 'slaves' connected with something in his mind. "Yes, about dee slaves. But there is something else as well. Something important."

Destrina was standing up - Rock could tell from the sound of the water falling off of her. "Give me a minute, Rock," she said, "Wait until I'm decent." Rock-In-The-River winced and closed his eyes, feeling his frills going red.

"I've got some questions for you, as well. You've been hunting the Mad Elf, right? You saw her eyes?"

Rock felt himself go cold. "Yes. Yes, I did."

There was a pause. Then, Destrina whispered, "What did you see?"

The memory of the Mad Elf's eyes surfaced in his subconscious, and for the first time in two - no, three - days, he was forced to acknowledge what he had seen.

"She looked to be… diseased. And not just a disease of deh mind." Those huge wide eyes, bigger than any Bosmer eyes should be, set too far to the side of the head to be natural. Nothing about her eyes was natural. No whites, no pupils… it was as if she was blind. Yet, she could see. She seemed to be a perfect creature, a killing machine. But her eyes betrayed her. She was dying. The yellow, green and black veins in her eyes were lines of rotting blood and decay and corruption. They spoke not of madness, but of great unceasing pain.

Behind the screen, Destrina was getting dressed. Her voice came to Rock-In-The-River softly. "I was thinking that too. There seems to be something wrong with her. It's like she's falling apart, from the inside out."

Rock pulled at his chin, troubled. "Earlier, Destrina, we spoke of setting a trap to catch the Bosmer. I think now that may be a bad idea. If she saved your life before, there is no sense in trying to anger her. But it is my mission to kill her, so I have no choice." He sighed. "It would help if I knew more about the Elf herself. About why she is killing and torturing these men. If I knew something, anything, I may be able to stop her. Or help her." He sighed again.

There was a heavy silence. Destrina came from behind the screen, dressed in her armour once more. Her eyes were down and dark. "She spoke to me," the Redguard whispered, "When she saved my life, she said something to me."

Rock turned to face the healer. "She spoke? What did she say?"

Destrina lifted her head. "_Hak-jula, grssh-han_."

Rock-In-The-River felt himself go cold. "I think the pronunciation is deeper." His voice became throaty and hissing, drawing out the syllables: "_Hhaak-chjuulaa, grsshh-hhaaan_." Rock looked away from Destrina quickly before she saw what was in his eyes.

Destrina's eyes widened. "Yes. That's exactly how she said it. What does it mean?"

"It's Argonian," Rock said slowly, scarcely believing what he was saying. "'Hak-jula' refers to a hunt. 'Grsh-han' refers to a clan-mate, a friend. More specifically, someone like a sister."

Destrina's eyes were wide, filled with alarm and confusion. "Sister? What would she mean…?" She looked aside for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts, then she looked back and pinned Rock with her eyes. "What _kind_ of a hunt does 'hak-jula' refer to?"

Rock did not answer for a moment. He stood and crosses the room, going behind the screen where Destrina had bathed. There was a pump in the corner, over a small stone basin. Rock-In-The-River pumped up some water and splashed his face with trembling hands.

"A rarely-used word for a rare kind of hunt," Rock said, sensing Destrina watching him with concern. "A hunt for revenge, for trophies."

"Why is this rare?" Destrina asked.

Rock shook the water from his hands. The water may have refreshed his dry skin, but his nerves were still raw. "In deh Black Marsh, it is most acceptable to kill for food or to protect your hunting grounds. But if a clan member is ever killed for no reason, the family members of deh slain would go on a 'huk-jula'. A revenge killing. They would bring back deh head or deh hands of deh murderer to deh grave of deh slain so the spirit of deh murdered can be at peace."

The Redguard and the Argonian were silent for a moment, just looking at each other.

"Do you think the Mad Elf is getting revenge on the ones who gave her that disease?" Destrina asked finally, her voice low. "She's torturing - but not killing - the same people who are responsible for her pain? Because she isn't dead herself, she's just… making people wish they were?"

Rock said nothing for a moment. "It's possible."

"That's why she didn't torture Johorn or his friends - they had nothing to do with her pain. She was just protecting me." Destrina frowned. "What are you thinking, Rock?"

Rock's frills were flat against his skull. "I am thinking that no Bosmer should know the language of the Black Marsh, let alone a word which is never spoken outside its borders." He pumped some more water into the basin and drank slowly, quenching his thirst. He could hear Destrina moving back towards the bed and sitting down. She was obviously lost in thought.

If the Mad Elf was torturing men who were responsible for her pain, why only the ones with writs on their heads? Because they would not be given long to suffer? It didn't make sense.

"Did you wish for me to tell you about what happened when I followed the slaver carts?" Rock -In-The-River asked, coming around the screen. The water had refreshed him.

Destrina looked up. "Yes," she said, her voice and face sombre. "That might be a good idea."

So Rock told her about the slavers, the old Telvanni wizard who had dragged away the Imperial man, how the 'females' were important, the slaves' loss of tongues, the doorway guarded by a watchful Dunmer. Destrina listened with a stony face, taking everything in. When Rock-In-The-River was finished, the Redguard and the Argonian held each other's gaze for a long time.

"I wouldn't have been able to get half as far without your help, Rock. This assignment of mine… it's turned into something bigger than I could possibly handle on my own." She sighed, but steeled herself. "I'm going to need a small army to help end this."

"Likewise, Destrina," Rock-In-The-River nodded, "My own assignment wid deh Mad-Elf… way over my head. But I will help you, Redguard, in any way I can."

Destrina looked up at him, a faint smile on her lips. "We help each other, right?"

Rock bowed, smiling himself. As he did so, the paper folded in his tunic dug into his stomach.

"Yes, of course," Rock said, as the memory of Destrina's writ came back to him in a cold shock. Should he tell her?

Destrina nodded, then stood. "Well, I think the first thing we should do is find out who that wizard is." She stopped and turned back to face him, and look at him, expectantly. "You said you had something else to tell me, Rock."

Rock felt his throat-frill blossom. "Destrina, I…"

Destrina held up a hand. "I have something to tell you first. When we first met, you said you knew nothing about me. I think your exact words were 'you could be a criminal'." She paused a moment, the continued, "Well, the truth is, while I haven't broken any laws, I've certainly made a fair few enemies in Vivec. I want to see the smuggling stopped." Her face hardened. "Especially given the way the 'slaves' are treated. That was why Johorn was after me. He'd been hired by one of the Houses to make sure I didn't cause any more interferences. But now that he's gone, I'm sure there won't be any more trouble." She smiled. "Besides, I'm with an assassin of the Morag Tong. Who'd dare attack me now?"

Rock found he could not meet her gaze. Destrina laughed, thinking it mere modesty.

"Well, now that that's off my chest… What were you going to say?"

Rock-In-The-River looked up at Destrina, into her trusting brown eyes. He forced a smile, hiding his teeth so as not to scare her. "Nothing. I was… I was thinking dat same thing, dat we must find deh wizard first. Who he is, what people think he does…It may help us find out what is behind dat door."

Destrina nodded. "Alright then. Shall we go?"

Rock nodded. Oh, how he felt like a coward.

* * *

Mad Elf watched as the female and the scales came down the tunnel, walking towards the big building, the part of the city where the threats hurt the most. Where the threats and the prey were one. She blinked slowly, then clambered slowly along the walls after the females and scales. She did not want them to see her. She would join them on the hunt soon enough. But for now, they should not see her. 

Something kicked within her, and Mad-Elf nearly screeched with the pain. She scampered to an overhang and perched on the wall, out of sight, and clutched at her stomach.

The threat was inside her! It would not go away!

Her diseased eyes blinked slowly as she focused on that section of the city.

Those _threats_ put this pain inside her. Those… _bastards_.

The word sounded strangely right. Mad Elf couldn't remember where she had heard the word, or what it meant. But, _bastards_. It sounded right. It sounded perfect. Those _bastards_ had done this to her. And they would pay. They were her prey now. She would see them all dead.

Mad Elf stood up and resumed her climbing along the walls, following the female and scales.

Her clothes were stained with blood. Most of it was not her enemies'.

**

* * *

A/N:** Just for the record, I'm not an expert on Argonian language. But they're a secretive race, and they're really cool, so I hope you can forgive my creative licence. More coming soon! Speculation and suggestions always welcome. 

Also, I needed a bit of humour in this piece so I added the bath scene. I apologise for Rock's flusterfication, but it made me giggle.


	11. Deeper

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda roxors my soxors. Lol roflcopter! _-winces-_

**A/N**: Whoo, this chapter was fun to write. And I wrote basically the whole thing during my free period at school. Whoo!

* * *

Destrina peered around the corner, then looked back to Rock. "I see him. The one with the Argonian chained to his wrist?" 

Rock-In-The-River nodded, suppressing a hiss. "Yes."

Destrina frowned. "He's very alert for someone on guard duty. Strange." She scratched a note in her journal, frowning.

"What should we do?" Rock asked.

Destrina shut her journal with a snap and tucked it back in her tunic. "Well, we want to get past him, don't we? In order to see what's behind that door?" She frowned in thought, then grinned impishly. "I've just had an idea. Wait here."

Rock-In-The-River raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, but he stayed in place as Destrina stood up and walked, bold as day, towards the sentry. The Dunmer stiffened at her approach.

"Move along, n'wah," he rasped, sounding bored, "I haven't the time to deal with vagrants."

Destrina smiled pleasantly. "Actually," she said cheerfully, "I just wanted to know something." She inclined her head behind and to the left of the Dunmer. "Is that the time?"

The Dunmer turned, confused, then sank to the floor, stunned.

"Okay, Pebble," Destrina called, lowering her mace, "You can come out now." She rifled in the pockets of the unconscious Dunmer and found the key for the Argonian slave, who had been watching with wide eyes.

"You are much fools being," The female Argonian breathed in wonder. "But Oon-Wai the thrice-blessed in freedom thanks you greatly!" She bowed low, her nose almost touching the floor.

Rock-In-The-River helped her stand upright. "What goes on back here?" He asked, motioning to the doorway.

Oon-Wai nodded, thinking. "Slaves and much strangeness, honoured sera. Pink things - and brown things," she added, with a meaningful look towards Destrina, "Go in but none come out. I," she tapped herself on her scaled chest, "Be here for guarding with the guard, not see much. Behind, friends of Oon-Wai know much better. But scared to tell they may be." She looked at the key in Destrina's hand. "To free them they also might be thrice-grateful, thrice-blessed."

Rock made a strange hissing and clicking noise, and Oon-Wai nodded, then turned and loped off.

"What was that?" Destrina asked.

"Argonian language," Rock-In-The-River said shortly. "I told her where to hide." He looked stubbornly at the door and refused to elaborate.

The door was locked, and the slave-key did not work on it. While Rock-In-The-River picked at the locks, Destrina checked on the fallen sentinel.

"Hrm." She said, sounding worried.

"What is it?" Rock said, not looking up from the lock.

"Seems I didn't hit him hard enough," she said, conversationally. "He's coming around."

Rock sighed, then resumed his picking of the lock. "Is there something you could do, Redguard? Because I'm a little busy here."

"Of course." She smiled at the fallen Dunmer. She placed her too palms together, and said gently, "I'm sorry for what I must do. I hope you can forgive me." She smiled, then placed her open palm on the Dunmer's forehead. He lolled, then stood up, his eyes sharp and hostile.

Rock whirled, blade in hand. "Redguard, what did you…" He stopped when he saw Destrina's self-satisfied grin. "What did you do?"

"Magic," she smirked. "Not bad for a mere healer, hey?" She nodded at the door. "Open yet?"

"Almost," said Rock, looking suspiciously at the Dunmer. "What did you do to him?"

Destrina waved a vague hand, and the Dunmer turned around and stared sullenly out at the empty canalworks. "A mixture of a calm humanoid spell, a domination spell, and an illusion. He won't remember anything once the spell wears off." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "He might wonder where 'his slave' has gone, though."

"When will the spell wear off?" Rock asked nervously, as the lock clicked open.

Destrina looked a little concerned, but shrugged. "In about five minutes, so we'd better hurry."

They swung the door open and stepped inside, not knowing what to expect. Three Khajiit and an old Argonian snapped to attention before they saw who exactly had walked through the doors.

"More game for deh wizards?" The Argonian asked ponderously.

"Heh," one of the Khajiit snickered, "Fools they be to walk this path." The Argonian silenced him with a glance.

"Forgive Rashjaad," the old Argonian said, "But here death and fear is all dat we know."

Rock-In-The-River flattened his frills and gave a small bow. "Greetings, elder."

The Argonian looked amused. "Elder, yes, but greetings not. You should leave, freed ones, and quickly."

Destrina held up the key. "But we've come to free you."

The Khajiit that had spoken wheezed out laughter. "Fools they be indeed!" Though he was silenced by a snarl from one of the other Khajiit, he continued to smirk.

The old Argonian slave looked long at the key in Destrina's hand. "It would be death for us to free us. Here, at least, we live."

"Though livin' be hard, at least be livin'," one of the other Khajiit offered.

Destrina looked to Rock, at a loss, but the Argonian assassin was simply nodding. "You did not see us, den," Rock-In-The-River said simply, "And you certainly did not tell us anything about the not-slaves who have been brought here, speaking with no tongues."

The four slaves fell into a horrified silence. Even the caustic Khajiit looked too scared to speak.

The old Argonian shook his scarred head. "We say nothing of dat. We know nothing of what lies beyond dat door." He motioned vaguely to a door half-hidden by a screen. Destrina crossed the room quickly and tried it.

"Locked," she reported. She started looking around on the shelves and in crates and chests for the key.

Rock-In-The-River looked expectantly at the old Argonian. "What else do you not know about, elder one?"

Before he could answer, the striped Khajiit leapt forward and snarled in Rock's face. "Hrrssst! Speakin' no more, be we!" He extended his claws threateningly. "You canna help us, and you will return to dee col' of deh shackles or deh col' o' dee grave - by my hand or deh hand of the wizards!" he snarled and spat, kept suddenly at bay by Rock-In-The-River's drawn blade. "Huh! Think you scare me, lizard? Liddle blade not hurt. Wizard magic hurt. Hurt here," he tapped the side of his head, then purred. "But perhaps lizard misses slavery, perhaps? P'raps death be better, yes, maybe…" Suddenly, the Khajiit's eyes glazed over, and he toppled

Destrina hefted her mace in one hand, and shrugged. She then knelt down and murmured the same spell she'd used on the Dunmer outside.

Rock was trembling with rage. He spat on the fallen slave, then looked back at the remaining three, who were watching the scene with fear. "Friends, we do not have long. We seek to put an end to dese wizards' plans. Can you tell us anything?"

The old Argonian watched thoughtfully as the caustic Khajiit rose to his feet and stomped sullenly back to the corner, prompted only by Destrina's word. Then, he turned to Rock-In-The-River. "Know this," The Argonian said calmly, "By entering here you have brought certain death on your heads."

"We all die someday," Destrina said stoically. "Can you help us?"

The Argonian paused, then turned away. "I wish I could help you, freed-ones. But bound as I am by magic and pain, I can tell you nothing."

"Nothing?" Destrina looked back at the doorway. "But surely, you'd have seen something?"

The Argonian shook his head slowly. "I know nothing of these books," he said, waving a hand at the shelf beside him. "Nothing at all."

Rock smiled in understanding. "You do not know if the wizard reads them?"

The old Argonian smiled back. "I do not know that he uses them all frequently. I am sorry I cannot help you."

Destrina pulled something out of her pocket, then ran over to the books. She stared at them intently, then squeezed her eyes shut. "Rock, get them."

He raised an eyebrow. "Eh?"

"The books!" Destrina hissed, "Get them, quickly!"

"Which ones?" Rock asked, looking from the books to the healer.

"All of them!" There was a shout outside. Destrina winced. "The spell's worn off. Hurry!"

Rock grabbed all the books and staggered back out of Destrina's way. She was murmuring something under her breath, and holding something in her hand. A soul gem. Rock-In-The-River heard the shrill screech of a dying scamp, and there was a flicker of something in the air around Destrina's hand..

"Where's the shelf?"

Rock directed her, and Destrina gingerly placed the soul gem where the books had once been. Then she opened her eyes and stepped back. The books were back on the shelf - or, they seemed to be.

"An illusion," Rock breathed, awed.

"Won't hold if the wizard tries to read his books, though." Destrina said wryly.

The sentinel was at the door, trying to get in, but it was locked fast. The sentinel swore and cursed, and started hammering at the door.

The old Argonian turned slowly to face Destrina and Rock-In-The-River. "If you have means to escape, I tink you should use them."

Rock swore softly. The door was their only way out. Unless… He looked to Destrina. She looked back at him, and shrugged hopelessly.

"Nothing?" Rock asked. "Not even a scroll?"

"I have one spell," Destrina whispered as the sentinel outside decided to kick down the door, "But I don't know if it's safe!"

"Try it anyway!" Rock-In-The-River hissed. The door was buckling on its hinges.

Destrina looked back to the old Argonian. "We'll be back for you."

The old slave just nodded. "I can only hope."

Destrina grabbed hold of Rock's arm and shouted a single word. The world swirled in colours and shapes not meant to be seen with mortal eyes just as the sentinel burst in. Rock heard him cursing and swearing and reaching for them before sound meant nothing and there was nothing but the blurring of sight and the senses. All Rock knew for certain was that Destrina had a hand on his arm, and his arms were full of something heavy.

Something solid loomed! Rock staggered and fell, and the books flew out of his arms to thud gracelessly on the floor. Rock-In-The-River himself tried to right himself before crashing head-first into the opposite wall. He wisely decided to sit down and wait until his sight cleared and the nausea passed. He wasn't entirely certain he possessed all of his limbs.

"You know," Destrina said, sitting down beside him, her voice sounding as though it were coming from underwater, "I wasn't actually sure that would work."

Rock swore in Argonian until he felt a bit better. "Don't," he rasped, "Ever do dat to me again." He could see the linear pattern made by Destrina's cornrow braids. For some reason it fascinated his eyes. He tried to shake himself, but gave up, as that just made him want to be sick. Even more so.

"Trust me," Destrina said cheerfully, "I won't. It's only meant to be for one person, anyway. I was certain it wouldn't have worked, or that you would have been torn apart, or something. It's amazing you survived."

Rock swore for longer this time, then closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He had all his limbs. And his tail. But he was still going to be sick. So he said so.

"You're welcome," Destrina said dryly. After a pause, Rock felt her stand up. "Let's see what crazed Telvanni wizards read in their spare time, shall we?"

Rock-In-The-River gave a cry and nearly toppled as the room gave a lurch. "No! Barricade dee door first."

Destrina did so, dragging across the heavy chest and then pulling at the bed. It took a moment for Rock to reorient himself. There was a bed in here?

"Dis is deh room in deh Black Shalk," he said stupidly, as the magic was allowing his senses to return.

Destrina put the bed up on its end and jammed the legs against the doorframe. "Yes."

Rock frowned, then risked standing up, using the wall to support him. "Was dis a recall spell you used, Destrina?"

The Redguard smiled a clear white smile. "Don't be silly. What if someone else had been in here?" While Rock-In-The-River tried to accept this, Destrina added, "This was where you decided we should go."

The logic of the situation played hide-and-seek in Rock's fuzzy mind. "Where I decided? What…? How…?"

"Kidding!"

Rock swore in common this time.

Destrina looked amused. "It wasn't a recall spell, but it's similar. Sometimes fiddling with magic isn't a good idea, but I'd say it was good for me I like to experiment with spells."

The look Rock gave Destrina told her he clearly disagreed, but he had no real choice in the matter. She smiled in return, then knelt down and picked up the books, looking at the covers as she did so.

"Strange books for a wizard to use," she said, frowning, "None of them particularly seem very magical." She sat down and read one. Rock gathered up the rest, and had to agree. None of them seemed arcane - you could buy them at any bookstore. What made them so important?

"Oh my," Destrina was blushing, but her expression was horrified. "This is…" She winced, and put the book down. "Not pleasant."

Rock reached for the book Destrina had set aside as she picked up another. 'A Less Rude Song'. Rock had read it before, as well as 'A Rude Song', which had been smuggled all the way from Daggerfall. He could understand why Destrina was blushing. He opened the book and refreshed his memory, though he knew he'd be better off without the associated memories.

_They say  
The Iliac Bay  
Is the place to barrel around  
Without a bit of apparel on,  
As advertised in that carol song  
A tune that's sung as the west wind blows  
About it lovely not wearing any clothes.  
Ladies singing high notes, men singing lows,  
Implying that the most luscious depravity  
And complete absence of serious gravity  
Can only be found in the waterous cavity  
Of Iliac Bay._

It seemed quite harmless at first, Rock thought grimly, before it descended into this:

_If you are the type who is more a sinner than a sinned,  
You'll find it all in Morrowind._

He skipped a few lines, focusing on the refrains.

_Whatever your odd needs: feathered, scaled, or finned,  
You'll find it all in Morrowind_…

_If you find yourself with unkind kinship with your kin  
You'll find it all in Morrowind._

With a smirk, Rock remembered how he'd taunted several Morag Tong victims into attacking him just by mentioning the possibility of an illicit affair between the victim and his mother, or the mother and a guar… or a nix-hound… or an Ogrim… Or all at once.

So, the wizard was a pervert? Indulging in a little reading on a 'touchy' subject? Rock closed the book, feeling that there was no great leap there. If the wizard felt that 'females' were of most importance, why shouldn't he read a book like this? Then Rock-In-The-River frowned, remembering something. _The male Imperial that was dragged away - I'm certain that there was something more to his kidnapping and torture than just depravity_…

Destrina looked up from her book, sighing. "'The Vagaries of Magicka' - you can find this in every Telvanni tower. What makes these books so important?" She looked through the other titles restlessly - 'Last Scabbard of Akrash', 'The Locked Room', 'The Poison Song', 'Palla'…

"We are missing something," Rock said, laying aside 'A Less Rude Song' and picking up the book at his feet. "Something obvious, which explains everything. Some kind of linking theme, perhaps…" He looked at the book's title, and felt a chill run down his spine. "Destrina, perhaps you should see this."

Destrina crossed the room and sat down beside Rock. "It was published by the Council of Healers of the Imperial University," she said, frowning. "What would a Telvanni want with that?" She pulled the book between the two of them, and they read together. Rock-In-The-River read the first sentence and felt a cold shiver, from his frills to his tail. Destrina was clearly thinking the same thing - she looked up and held his gaze.

"They wouldn't dare," she breathed.

Rock's frills reddened. "Dee Telvanni are wise. But they believe that wisdom is power, and power is right. They believe they have the right to do these things."

"This is more than just smuggling." Destrina's voice was low in terror. "Much more."

So this was why the females were important. This was why the males were separated from them. This was why the Telvanni went to such lengths to hide their activities.

Rock looked down at the book, and read the excerpt once more to himself.

_After much analysis of living specimens, the Council long ago determined that all "races" of elves and humans may mate with each other and bear fertile offspring.__ Generally the offspring bear the racial traits of the mother, though some traces of the father's race may also be present. It is less clear whether the Argonians and Khajiit are inter-fertile with both humans and elves. Though there have been many reports throughout the Eras of children from these unions, as well as stories of unions with daedra, there have been no well documented offspring…

* * *

_

**A/N**: One big chapter this time, instead of two chunks. Hope you like. _-coughREVIEWcough- _Rock's quote about wisdom, power and right comes almost straight from the game, and I just HAD to use it. And Destrina's think about the time? Anachronism. But really, I think it works. 


	12. Abominations

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda Software game, me characters. And the redesigning of the Vivec Telvanni canton.

**A/N**: Whew! Lotta work here. Hope you like!

* * *

They abandoned the room then. It was frighteningly obvious now. Experiments in the Telvanni canalworks. The creation of… _abominations_; there could be no other word for them. Destrina felt sickened. All the goods and artefacts which had been smuggled - which she had been sent to investigate - were used to further this sick, sick goal. 

All she needed was proof. Proof, and then she could end it.

She might be able to show the council the book - that cursed book, 'Notes on Racial Phylogeny and Biology, Seventh Edition', but the book alone would not be proof. She needed something solid. And Destrina was not looking forward to that, even if she had Rock-In-The-River to help her.

The Redguard looked sidelong at her ally as she walked. The Argonian was looking grim. He was an admitted assassin for the Morag Tong, she'd come to accept that - hell, she was even helping him. But there was something else about him which bothered her. Something he was hiding from her.

"We need to find out what's behind that door in the slave room," Destrina said. "And what happened to that Imperial you told me about."

Rock-In-The-River nodded, but said nothing. He appeared too disgusted for words; too deep in thought to speak. But too deep in thought about what? She turned her eyes back to the path as they made their way purposefully towards the Telvanni section.

Rock spared a sideways glance at the healer, and wondered what had made him hide the knowledge of a writ from her. She deserved to know - after all, it was her life. But somehow, Rock felt he could not tell her. It would be a betrayal of her trust. She would think he planned to collect the writ himself, something he had no intention of doing. But if he did not tell her, he would still be betraying her - she trusted him, and he was holding back. Ah, it hurt the head. Best to concentrate on one thing at a time. Invading a Telvanni lair after their presence was already known was basically suicide. No time for distractions here. They needed to be prepared for everything.

_They_…

The canalworks of the Telvanni section were suspiciously empty. The sentinel in front of the door was absent, and that made Rock worried.

"They must be ready for us," he mused.

"Putting security where it matters this time," Destrina added, adjusting the collar and sleeves of her armour. "It doesn't matter. We can do this, right?"

Rock-In-The-River looked at Destrina with no small measure of surprise. She sounded different. Stronger, more sure of herself. Come to think of it, she had seemed a hopeless case before… before she…

Before she'd seen the Mad Elf's eyes.

Rock turned his thoughts inward while Destrina carefully scouted around the canalworks. It seemed outlandish, but there was no other explanation for it. She'd been careless, open, and trusting, until she saw the Mad Elf's eyes. At the time, she'd been wracked with fear. But now, she was… a warrior. A true warrior. There was no other way of describing it. Rock frowned, and wondered if the Mad Elf's eyes had affected him in a similar way… or if, perhaps, it was mere coincidence.

"There's no-one here," Destrina reported, bringing Rock out of his reverie. "Shall we try the slave's room? We could return the books." She shrugged her shoulder - the wizard's books were in her pack.

Rock frowned, looking about. "I do not like this…" he murmured. "Not at all…"

"Come on," She said calmly, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Rock-In-The-River gave Destrina a measured look. "Generally speaking, dose who say dat usually end up in horrible circumstances." He paused. "Give me deh books. I'll put dem back, and get your soul gem back. Dere's no sense in us both getting caught."

"Alright," Destrina said, handing them over. "But be careful." She moved back into the shadows and, crouching down, watched as the Argonian crossed the floor and entered into what they'd called 'the slave's room'. The door was still broken from when the sentinel had kicked it down. Destrina found herself with her heart in her throat and a prayer for Rock's safety in her mind.

Minutes ticked by, and Destrina found herself becoming more and more close to panic. Where was he? Was he alright?

"Destrina?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and nearly screamed. The scaled form of Rock-In-The-River faded back into sight.

"You scared the living daylights out of me!" Destrina gasped, and Rock couldn't help but look a little pleased with himself. "How do you do that?"

"By being born under dee right stars," Rock said, cryptically (and a little smugly, Destrina thought). However, there was no hiding the pale colour of his frills.

"Rock," Destrina said, "What happened?"

"Dat door leads to death," Rock said flatly, "Dey dispose of deh corpses in dere. It is a room full of mutilated corpses…"

"So," Destrina's eyes widened, "That male Imperial…"

Rock-In-The-River looked aside, nodding his head. His eyes met hers briefly, then wandered to her right - to another doorway. The one which, the night before, had the slaver's cart outside. Today, the cart was gone. But the door remained.

"That's where they took the rest of the slaves, right?" Destrina said, rising to her feet. "What do you suppose is behind there?"

"Perhaps the answers to all our questions," Rock said, readying his blade and shield. He began to walk towards it, when Destrina put her hand on his shoulder.

"You're holding it wrong," She said gently. "You want to protect yourself with a shield, not hinder yourself."

Rock looked back at her, then held out his arms. "Show me, den."

Destrina adjusted Rock's grip on the small shield, then frowned slightly. "You know, you'd be better off using two blades, rather than a blade and shield. You hold a shield like you're not used to it."

"I'm not," Rock admitted, "But in deh mines I had to…" He stopped, and cursed himself. He swore himself he'd never tell anyone…!

Destrina's reaction was surprisingly muted. "Maybe you should find a second blade then," she shrugged, "If that's what you're used to." She looked at him, and her eyes held no trace of the pity or disdain that Rock-In-The-River expected. It made him feel a little better. But he would have to watch what he revealed about himself in future.

"Shall we?" He asked, nodding towards the door.

Destrina readied her mace, and nodded grimly in return. Taking a breath, Rock steeled himself, then pushed open the door and slid inside, with Destrina right behind him.

The room smelt of sulphur and copper. Fires burned softly within bowls set on pillars of green marble. The walls of the room were solid stone, yet Rock sensed a great deal of expended magic on and within them. They were in a Telvanni wizard lair; magic was to be expected. But what wasn't expected was the cold, still silence.

"Where is everyone?" Destrina asked. "What is this place?"

Rock tilted his head and listened carefully. It wasn't all silence - there were faint mechanical noises coming from behind the walls. A rhythmic clanking and hissing. "Dis way," he whispered, and crept forward.

The noises grew louder as the healer and the assassin neared the thick wooden door. Whatever was making the noises was right behind the door. Only sparing a grim look at Destrina, Rock-In-The-River threw the door wide.

The Steam Centurion behind the door charged forward, clubbed arm swinging over the Argonian's head. Only Rock's quick reflexes prevented him from being crushed like an insect. With a snarl, Rock-In-The-River leapt at the construct, stabbing at the construct's metal body with lightning speed but little effect. Destrina, meanwhile, seemed to know exactly how to kill the metal monster. With a few well-placed swings of her mace, the centurion's head collapsed, spewing steam. As Rock leapt aside from the scalding steam, Destrina toppled the centurion by beating at his knees, shattering the metal plates.

"Finish him," Destrina said, stepping back, exhausted. She pointed to a tangle of copper wires. Rock knelt down and quickly cut them. A thick black liquid oozed out; the construct shuddered twice, then was still. Rock wiped his blade clean, then looked up at Destrina.

"What was that thing?"

"A dwemer construct," Destrina breathed, leaning against the wall. "It's called a steam centurion. It must have been reprogrammed by the Telvanni." She saw the confused look on Rock's face. "It was given new orders, most likely to protect this room." She looked back down at the centurion. "It doesn't need to sleep, eat, and when you give it an order, it will always obey, no matter the circumstances."

"Of course," Rock said, looking down at the fallen construct. "A perfect guard."

Destrina stood up; she looked to have caught her second wind. "Shall we continue on?"

The corridors were still and quiet - after the steam centurion there did not seem to be any more guards. This just made Rock uneasy.

"Destrina," he asked softly, "Was that construct… was it dangerous?"

Destrina nodded grimly. "The only reason we're not ugly red splatters on the wall right now was because I've fought those things before. I know their weak spots." She smiled slightly. "And the fact I carry a mace helped too." She mimed swinging it once more, and smiled a little wider, but that couldn't hide the fact she was paler than usual.

Rock somehow didn't feel any better. A frighteningly-skilled guardian was still just one guardian. There surely had to be some other defences in here…

A woman's scream suddenly rent the air, then was stifled by sobbing. There was an overwhelming smell of blood, then …the silence. It was unnerving, to say the least.

Destrina strode up to one of the walls. "It came from here," she said, frowning. She rested one hand against the stone, then gasped as her hand went right through the wall. "An illusion," she said, turning back to Rock-In-The-River. "A powerful one. Maintained by wards of some kind."

"Wards?" Rock grit his teeth. "Can we pass undetected? Unharmed?"

"Only one way to find out," Destrina said, then stepped through the wall. Rock ran after her. He'd expected to feel something as he passed through, like a breeze or the tension of water, but there was nothing. It was just an illusion. But behind the wall the smell of blood was stronger, and it came from behind every one of the doors. The air itself was so thick with the scent that it made Rock think he were swimming in it.

"What is this?" Destrina asked, aghast, putting her hand to her mouth.

It was a corridor. A long corridor, with four forbidding-looking doors along both walls. Eight doors in all. Rock looked around apprehensively. Where had the scream come from? And would it be safe to open the doors?

Destrina looked sideways at Rock-In-The-River. "Where should we begin?"

Rock sighed, steeling himself. "Deh source of deh scream, perhaps. We must get deh 'slaves' out of here."

Destrina nodded, silently agreeing. "Let find out where they are, then." She put her hands together, and murmured. A moment later, she opened her eyes, then pointed to the third door on the left. "In there."

Rock blinked slowly. "Some form of enchantment designed to find life, no doubt," he said softly, as he and she crossed the floor. Destrina just nodded. "What about the other doors?"

"Too weak to help," Destrina whispered, her voice tremulous, "Too close to death. This is the only room… the only 'slave' with a strong heartbeat. And everyone else is…"

The scream came again, and this time it was obvious that is come from the door that the two of them were facing. Neither of them hesitated. They opened the door and jumped inside, weapons readied.

It was like entering a cage. Half of the room was shielded in a shimmering purple glow, from floor to ceiling, separating Destrina and Rock-In-The-River from the other occupant of the room.

It was a woman - or at least, what was left of her. An Imperial woman - the same one Rock had seen dragged away - battered and beaten and bound naked to a table. She looked half-dead, her eyes glazed an unfocused at the ceiling. And she was heavily pregnant.

"What in the name of the Nine…" Destrina stared, horrified.

Rock-In-The-River could not tear his eyes away from the sight. "Dis must be what dey need the slaves for. Dey… dey breed them."

"This isn't right!" Destrina's eyes were filling with tears. "This is… this is just…"

The woman on the table gave a shuddering sigh, then moaned something unintelligible. Her bloated stomach quivered, as though the child inside was kicking.

"We have to help her!" Destrina put her hands to the shield.

"No," Rock said firmly, though fear and disgust at this woman's treatment was making him wish he could lash at the shield and free the woman. He pulled Destrina back. "If we help her, we will only end up exposing ourselves. Besides," he added sadly, "She does not seem to have much life left in her."

Suddenly, the woman moaned, then gasped, then screamed. The kicking within her stomach intensified, until suddenly, the skin of her bloated stomach tore, and something slick and bloody burst out of the Imperial woman. Blood poured everywhere, the woman's still-living heart pumping the rest of it out of her veins. The thing which had burst out of the woman fell to the floor with a wet thud. It did not seem to move… but then, it started to struggle.

Destrina and Rock could only watch in horror.

There was blood everywhere. The woman, with her torso ripped open and bound as she was, could do nothing. She gave a weak cry as her eyes rolled back into her head, and then she was still.

The thing on the floor, however, was not. Still trapped in its caul, the creature struggled and flailed, trying to tear free. It was the size of a newborn, but from what the Redguard and the Argonian could see through the bloody caul, this was no Imperial child. Imperial children did not have horns or scales.

Rock-In-The-River pulled on Destrina's sleeve. "We must go. Now."

Destrina turned slowly, her eyes being the last thing to leave. "Yes." She was shaking. "Out of this horrible place." They made to run.

As the healer and the assassin fled, the child behind the shield tore out of its bloody caul and looked around with wide eyes. It saw nothing and no-one, but it was hungry. It gave a pathetic mewling, then sat up and sniffed. Lots of blood. Instinct kicked in, and told the child that there was food nearby.

Fresh meat.

It clambered quickly up the table using its claws and tail and started eating the food that had been tied to the table for it.

* * *

Destrina staggered to the edge of the canton walls and threw up into the water of the canal. Rock-In-The-River empathised with her - what they had seen was a nightmare, and he himself was fighting with nausea. 

'Palla' had been about a Dunmer resurrecting a demon through necromancy. 'Poison Song' was about brother-and-sister unions in the name of Dagoth Ur. 'The Locked Room' was about a thief who locked her mentor in a room with a vampire. 'The Last Scabbard of Akrash' was about a Dunmer abolitionist who killed her father, but the theme was still there: her lover had been a Kahjiit.

'A Less Rude Song' and 'Notes on Racial Phylogeny and Biology' tied everything together. And what was happening was nothing short of an abomination.

The unnatural - most likely forced - unions between races, forged most likely with the powers of evil daedra and necromancy.

Destrina threw up again, then sobbed quietly over the edge. Rock-In-The-River moved quietly to her side.

On the other side of the water, movement caught his eye. He looked up, and saw Alrene Radner walking towards them both with firm purpose. Rock reached slowly for his blades, pretending he didn't notice her.

Destrina sat up slowly. "Oh, Rock," she whispered, trembling, "This goes beyond anything I could have ever imagined… This is…"

"We will put an end to it," Rock said, watching Alrene out of the corner of his eye.

Destrina looked up at him. "We?"

Rock nodded. "Together." He spun and parried Alrene's sword thrust, knocking Destrina out of harm's way with his tail.

Alrene's smile was cold. "Move, Blind Thrall."

Rock did not smile at all. "I have no time for this." He lashed out with his short sword, forcing Alrene back. "Go bother someone else."

Alrene shook her head, standing in that easy way with her sword balanced on one hip. "I don't think you understand me, lizard." Her eyes went hard as stone. "You can't collect two writs at the same time."

Rock leapt, his blade flashing. Alrene barely got out of the way in time - a thin red line appeared across her dark arm.

"I intend to." Rock hissed, slowly and menacingly. "And the likes of you will not stop me."

Alrene relented, sheathing her sword. "So be it," she said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Play your games, Blind Thrall. But the Guildmaster will hear of this."

Rock just grunted. _I've no doubt of that_. _I've just cheated you out of a significant sum_. He watched the other Morag Tong agent with hard eyes, making sure that she was truly leaving them. Only then did he turn to see Destrina, picking herself off the ground with a wry smile on her face.

"A little reminder to hurry up and catch the Mad-Elf?" Destrina asked, brushing herself off. Rock-In-The-River said nothing. Destrina frowned. "Rock? What is it?"

"Do you truly intend to continue this quest of yours? And of mine, to kill the Mad-Elf?" Rock asked, his voice controlled.

"By my stars, of course I do." Destrina wrinkled her nose. "Why, Rock, what's wrong?"

Rock-In-The-River shook his frills. "Stars…" he murmured thoughtfully, then turned to face her. "What do you know of the stars, healer?"

"Some say the stars decide our fates," Destrina said carefully, "Others say they merely show a path, a possibility of the future."

"And what do you say?" Rock asked, just as cautiously.

Destrina paused before answering. "I say there is a power in the stars, but not the kind of power that dictates the course of your life." She frowned slightly. "The power of my birthsign helped me to nearly escape the Mad-Elf yesterday. But still she managed to catch me."

"Deh Steed." Rock said thoughtfully. "You were born under deh sign of deh Steed."

"Yes." Destrina frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"For many years," he said slowly, "I had not seen dee sky. I did not know what sign I was born under. Until one day…" He sighed softly. "I agree - deh stars have power - powers they lend us - but dee stars do not rule our lives." He pulled a piece of paper from his tunic and looked at it solemnly before handing it over to her. "Forgive me for concealing dis from you."

Destrina read the paper quietly. Rock closed his eyes and waited, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach as the silence stretched out between them.

Finally… "You knew about this, Rock-In-The-River?"

Rock met her gaze. "I did."

"Why did you hide it from me?"

"I could blame my stars," Rock said calmly, "My sign thrives of deception, as does dee Daedra I serve by working for deh Morag Tong. But this deception… was…" His words sounded feeble, "Was in order to protect you."

Destrina looked down at the parchment in her hand. "Rock, do you realise what this is?"

"A writ for your execution."

The Redguard looked at him sharply. "Yet you thought you could protect me by hiding this?"

Rock-In-The-River dropped his head. "Forgive me. I feel a coward."

Destrina shook her head, something akin to surprise in her eyes. "Rock, did you even read this? This writ is proof! Proof that they knew I'd find this place!"

Rock looked up, startled. "What?"

Destrina held out the parchment and pointed to a name - a name Rock had not seen. He had been too focused on the price to notice who exactly wanted Destrina dead. "That's a powerful Telvanni wizard. You collected this list yesterday, correct?"

"A day and a half ago," Rock amended, frowning. "How is this important?"

"I was investigating nothing but smuggling at that time," Destrina said, excitement unconcealed in her voice, "Johorn and his friends were sent to deter me from… finding out anything else! When they couldn't kill me, there was a writ sent after me!"

"More like at dee same time," Rock said carefully, "I doubt dee wizard trusted Johorn to kill you. He had deh Morag Tong sent to make sure." His mouth tightened grimly. "He wasn't taking any chances on you, Redguard."

Destrina looked up slowly. "I wonder how many others have met this fate," she whispered, her eyes sad and distant.

Rock had no answer to that. He looked out over the canal and breathed deep to calm and settle himself.

Destrina continued to ponder the list of writs. "Whether this wizard knew, or thought, or expected that I'd find out what he was doing, he was certainly clever enough - and powerful enough - to see that he was not discovered or interrupted." Destrina shuddered and looked like she was going to be sick again. "But for what purpose could his experiments have? Why make… why torture those 'slaves'? There must be a reason - aside from blind arrogance." She turned. "What do you think, Rock?"

The Argonian didn't answer. His eyes were hard and his frills were flat against his skull. He was as still as the stone in his name.

"Rock-In-The-River?" Destrina frowned. "Rock? What is it?"

"Can't you smell it?" He said softly.

There was a birdlike chirp, and a peal of soft mocking laughter. And then the Mad-Elf was there, leaping down from the side wall where she had been clinging, spider-like, watching them.

The Mad-Elf fixed her diseased and unnatural eyes on the healer and the assassin, and slowly grinned.


	13. Argonian

**Disclaimer**: Elder Scrolls for the setting and the awesome games.

**A/N**: Apologies. Late, and short. But I will more than make up for both these failings in the next chapter.

* * *

"By the gods…" Destrina reached for her mace, but Rock slowly put a hand on her arm, stopping her. 

"Don't," he hissed, "Move."

Mad-Elf looked from one to the other, slowly, her mouth a savage gash filled with needle-thin fangs. Greasy bloodstained hanks of hair fell either side of her heart-shaped face, and her eyes - black and green and yellow - were wide and sightlessly staring. These eyes snapped from Destrina to Rock. Her insane grin never faded.

Neither Destrina or Rock moved - both were paralysed by fear and instinct.

Mad-Elf looked from one to the other once more, then hunched over, stretching and twisting as though uncomfortable. She rose to stand on the balls of her feet, and curled her arms across her stomach, the golden blade clasped in one hand. She continued to watch them, though her grin - for an instant - looked pained more than insane.

"_Grsshh-hhaaan_." Rock breathed, his words coming out of near-immobile lips.

Mad-Elf's smile faded somewhat, and she nodded, uncurling her arms from her stomach. "_Hisst-talitha. Rukh naal_." There was something unearthly about that voice. A Bosmer with such a deep snarl? It didn't seem right.

Destrina was unable to tear her eyes from the Elf. "What did she say?"

"She's not going to hurt us," Rock said calmly, though his frills were still flat and his eyes were hard. "She wants to help."

"Help?" Destrina stared the Mad-Elf. "Doing what?" Rock translated, asking the question Destrina had posed. Mad-Elf's grin reappeared and she chattered and hissed at Rock-In-The-River for a few moments. Finally, Rock nodded. "Remember how earlier deh slavers had said dat one of the females had escaped? Apparently, dat was Mad-Elf, before she had gotten sick."

"Sick?" Destrina looked at Mad-Elf's eyes with some pity. "Is there anything I can do? I am a healer, after all…"

Mad-Elf snapped and snarled, this time with some urgency.

Rock shook his head. "She says she is too sick for help, but she wants others to die with her." His frills blossomed with colour for a moment.

Mad-Elf _moved_. Destrina staggered back, shocked by the creature's speed. One moment Mad-Elf had been half-hunched near the lip of the canal, and now she was barely three inches from Destrina's face, on tip-toes and with the edge of her blade against the Redguard's neck. Mad-Elf spat a strange syllable at Destrina, then waited, her breath smelling of blood and unhealthiness.

"She wants your name," Rock said, his voice a low warning.

Destrina could all but keep from trembling. "Destrina," she whispered.

Mad-Elf nodded thoughtfully. "Stree-nah." She seemed to like the name. She moved back slightly, nodding to herself. Suddenly, her entire body jerked, and the Mad Elf nearly lost her balance. She screeched in alarm - the sound jolted both Rock and Destrina out of their frozen poses as well - and clutched at her stomach, hissing painfully.

Destrina's eyes widened in alarm when she saw a trickle of blood crawling down Mad-Elf's lip. "Rock, she's dying!"

Rock just nodded. "Yes. I can smell it on her. She has not long."

Destrina murmured a small word, a divination spell, and she saw what Rock-In-The-River had smelled. There was some kind of magical poison in her bloodstream. It was as though Mad-Elf had been turned inside out, covered and tempered with spells, and put back together again, but improperly. The magic that was sustaining her was killing her. It was holding her together but tearing her apart. Just as Destrina had surmised only a few hours before.

Just before the divination spell faded, and just before Mad-Elf rose upright again, Destrina saw something which made her breath catch in her throat.

"Rock, she's…" Mad-Elf looked straight at Destrina, and the words died in the Redguard's throat.

But Rock nodded, wearily. "I know," he murmured.

Mad-Elf fell back into her original pose - poised on the balls of her feet, slightly hunched, her arms bent slightly in front of her. She blinked slowly, her blackened eyes flickering between Destrina and Rock like restless flies.

The books the healer and the assassin had found spoke of slaves, and unholy unions, and foul and unnatural magicks. This Telvanni wizard was torturing creatures, forcing breeding, creating offspring and monsters for some unknown purpose; perhaps there was no purpose, aside from simple arrogant pride. Perhaps the only reason countless men and women had died - horrible, horrible deaths! - was to prove to a wizard that such things could be done. That magic could do what life could not.

Both the healer and assassin looked at the Mad-Elf, finally understanding. Mad-Elf smiled slowly, then chittered and chirped. She squatted on her heels and twirled the blade in her hand, waiting.

"That's how she knows my language," Rock-In-The-River said sadly, sickened and pitying.

"She's not a Bosmer." Destrina acknowledged softly, at the same time. "She's an Argonian."

Rock's pity turned to anger. "What kind of monster would do this to her? To anyone?!"

"I don't know." Destrina said softly; she turned and prompted the Mad-Elf with two names, "Kalereb. Ishran."

Mad-Elf lifted her lips in a snarl. "Badmen," she snarled, then grinned. "Deadmen." The fact that she spoke the Common tongue made both Rock and Destrina pause for a moment.

"Why?" Destrina asked. "Why were they bad men?"

"Hurt," Mad-Elf grinned. "Badmen. Hurt-pain." She looked hard at her blade, then pointed to Destrina's mace. She shook her head in a manner which reminded Destrina of Rock shaking out his frills. It was a restless motion, a dismissive one - she was remembering something she didn't want to, something she didn't like.

"Who else?" Rock-In-The-River hissed. "Who else is behind this?"

Mad-Elf licked her lips in a way that may have been coquettish had it not been frightening. "Johorn," she shrugged. "Deadman. Belkan. Deadman. Hesser. Deadman." She shrugged, then rose upright again. "Many badmen. All deadmen. Bastards." She looked pleased with herself - perhaps for the word she chose.

"Who else?" Rock insisted, moving forward, his frills wide and blossoming red. Mad-Elf shrank back, baring her fangs in alarm. But the Blind Thrall of the Morag Tong did not relent. "Who is the wizard who did this? Who did this to you, _grrsh-haan_? What is his name? I will see him dead in deh name of deh Morag Tong, just give me his NAME!"

"Rock, please!" Destrina put an arm on Rock's arm, trying to check his temper. But it was too late. The Mad-Elf had vanished in a pale-brown blur. Destrina and Rock were alone, looking out over the water of the Telvanni canton.

Rock cursed and swore, hissing and snarling in his native tongue, shaking off Destrina in frustration. The Redguard waited until Rock's temper had subsided before speaking.

"We scared her away."

Rock hissed from between his teeth. "All I wanted to know was who was responsible for this!"

"She's terrified, Rock!" Destrina said firmly, making the Argonian turn to face her. "She's been imprisoned and tortured, and she's in incredible pain. She's dying, Rock. The last thing we need to be doing is threatening her."

"I wasn't…!" Rock paused, then slowly let out a pained breath. "Perhaps I did seem…"

Destrina put a hand on Rock's arm. "It's alright. I understand." She smiled somewhat. "I did have a similar reaction when I saw those Redguard slaves. It's alright to be angry." Her eyes darkened. "But we need to direct our anger elsewhere."

Rock breathed out slowly, forcing his heart to slow. "Yes," he said finally. But where to start? The Mad Elf had fled, so they would not get any information from her. All they had was a list of writs, and - judging from the names the Mad Elf had given - all of those writs had already been served. Rock pulled the paper from his tunic again and stared at it, trying to find something, anything, that would help. Destrina looked over Rock's shoulder. Her presence so close to him was distracting - Rock was an assassin, used to travelling, fighting and _being_ alone. How could he _possibly_ think with that Redguard…

_The Redguard_.

And there it was. The answer. "Destrina," Rock said, urgently, "How long ago did you come to Vivec?"

Destrina looked up, frowning. "About two days ago. Why?"

Rock rifled through the papers, looking for the page with Destrina's name on it. "You said it yourself," Rock said, with some measure of excitement. "The name on dis writ - deh name of deh one who wants you dead - is a powerful Telvanni wizard." He pointed to the name. Jyrosh Telvannus.

Destrina's eyes widened. "Of course. He's the one behind it… The smuggling. The slaves. The assassination attempts... Everything." Then she frowned and shook her head. "Rock, this is too big for either of us. I'm just a healer. I can't fight a Telvanni wizard. I don't think we can do this on our own."

"You're right. You can't."

Rock and Destrina turned; Rock let the papers scatter around his feet as he readied his blade and his shield. Destrina was not as prepared. She did not have Rock's assassin senses, nor his reflexes. She took the brunt of the spell.

"NO!" Rock's eyes followed the arcing form of Destrina. She was silenced, stunned, hurt badly by the flames. She flew sickeningly, like a rag-doll, through the air. The Redguard was thrown over the lip of the canton by the force of the spell; the flames that surrounded her sizzled and hissed once making contact with the water, sending up a cascade of steam. "STREE NAH!" But Rock could not run to her, to see if she lived. He could not go to her. The one who had cast the spell stood before him.

The wizard lowered his hand, his lips twisted in what might have been a smile had it not been so frightening and almost demonic. "A simple fire spell at close range does such damage," Jyrosh said, almost conversationally, brushing back a careless strand of hair. "It's a little something I've been working on." He laughed, his laugh short and controlled. "Oh, yes, aside from my beasts, of course."

Rock said nothing, but gripped the blade tighter. Destrina had been right - Rock _was_ holding his shield wrong. He wasn't used to it. Against the spells of an arrogant wizard, such a shield was useless. But it was all he had. Rock shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, drummed his claws in the dirt once, and slowly crouched low behind his shield.

The wizard seemed to be alone. But Rock's senses were not fooled. There were Daedra gathered around him, bodyguards cloaked by powerful magic. But they were summoned creatures. Slay the wizard and his creations die with him.

_Die, and Destrina will be avenged!_ Rock felt something catch in his throat, but he kept his focus.

Jyrosh Telvannus narrowed his eyes at Rock, but smiled still. "Nothing to say, Argonian? You've been quite a pest. Injuring my guards, stealing my books, interfering with my experiments… Are you going to defend yourself? Do you have anything to say that would perhaps make me lenient enough to give you a quick death?" The wizard waited, hands on hips. "Well?"

"In deh name of deh Morag Tong," Rock snarled, and leapt forward.


	14. Revenge Killing

**Disclaimer**: Under the moon-and-star, this isn't mine.

**A/N**: Lots of gore in this chapter.

* * *

The Dunmer's eyes had widened in surprise as Rock's blade sheered towards his throat, but the Daedric bodyguards, cloaked and empowered by the wizard's spells, stepped forward to the defence of their captor. Rock screeched in pain as a clannfear clamped its beak around his calf, and barely dodged the blow of the Dremora Lord's battleaxe. He tumbled to the ground, landing awkwardly, and stabbed out at the invisible Daedra that still clung to him. The clannfear vanished with a screech and a hiss of light.

Rock staggered to his feet, raised his shield, and leapt again. Jyrosh just stood with arms folded, watching as Rock tussled with invisible creatures far more powerful than he could handle.

"This isn't like your normal assignment, is it, son of Mephala?" The Dunmer laughed pitilessly as Rock staggered back, thwarted once again. "You're so used to fighting flesh and blood you have no defence against the blood of the Princes."

Rock did not even deign to answer. He slashed and stabbed at the air, blocking as best he could with his shield. He heard another clannfear die, heard a scamp screech in pain, heard the two Dremora lords discussing who would feast on his marrow first even as they converged on him. Rock knew he was outmatched. These Daedra were too powerful. He was going to die.

But he'd not die without taking the wizard with him. For Destrina's sake.

He heard the clank of armour, and sidestepped as one of the Dremora lords came too close. Daedra or not, the creature still died - it moaned and vanished in a cloud of foul-smelling powder. The second - taking advantage of a momentary flicker in Rock's awareness - brought his mace down hard. Shockwaves shuddered up and down Rock's arm, and his flimsy shield shattered. Rock fell to the stone floor, landing in the dust of the dead Dremora and snarling in defiance.

"A pity," the wizard said nonchalantly, "That such a strong creature has to be killed. You would have made a fine addition to my menagerie, lizard."

In the dust of the dead Daedra lay its weapon, forgotten when the creature had returned to its realm. A dagger, curved and dangerous. A Daedric dagger. Rock picked it up in his shield arm. Strangely, with a weapon in both hands, he felt much more at ease.

Just as Destrina had said he would.

He kicked up with his wounded leg, catching the looming Daedra in its genitals. It may have been invisible, but it had its weak points like any other creature. With both blades, Rock stabbed and sliced and cut until his foe disintegrated before him. It seemed ironic that the Dremora should be slain by a Daedric weapon.

Rock turned slowly, favouring his leg and wincing from his wounds, and faced the wizard. "In deh name," he panted, twirling both daggers and advancing slowly, "Of deh Morag Tong, I execute you."

The wizard smirked, and waved a hand. Rock could not dodge this spell; his crippled leg slowed him. The spell held him in place, freezing him with the angered expression and the blades readied. He was paralysed. Unable to move. Unable to do anything but watch as the wizard Jyrosh Telvannus advanced upon him.

"You're pathetic," the Dunmer told him, face to face and sneering in delight. "You think you scare me with that name? Just because you claim that name doesn't give you any authority to kill me." Jyrosh smirked. "I know how the Morag Tong works, lizard. You need a writ to kill me before you can claim Morag Tong justice. You ca't touch me. You'd be a murderer. And you'd be expelled from your guild. I'm no fool. But you are." The wizard folded his arms in his sleeves and stepped back. "And fools," Jyrosh's eyes were wide with mania, "Die!" He raised his hands high and started chanting. The smell of magic began to waft through the air.

Rock felt panic course through his veins. He knew this spell. He'd seen it before. He and his comrades had slaughtered the guards and made it to the entrance of the cave. They'd tasted the night air, they'd seen freedom. But they hadn't seen the wizard on the ridge. But he'd seen them.

A few shouted words passed the slaver's lips, and fire had come down from the sky and consumed all of the slaves. Rock alone had survived - a small hollow between two rocks caught him as he tripped and shielded him from the blast, and from the eyes of the trackers afterwards. He hadn't been able to move for days. His skin and flesh was ravaged, and took months to heal.

His friends, though… were reduced to nothing but charcoal and shadows on the earth in the mere blinking of an eye.

Rock felt the paralyse spell ending, but it wouldn't be soon enough. This wizard was going to kill him. And the Argonian knew that he would not be able to escape. He was trapped; he was doomed.

"Augmani mentus damanaskaaAAAAHHHH!" The Dunmer's chanting turned to a scream that turned Rock's blood to ice. He realised the paralyse spell was over, and that he was in no danger of immolation, but he could not move. He merely stood, rooted, and stared at the golden blade that pierced the wizard's stomach.

The blade that was followed by a hand. Then an arm. The wizard screamed again, but short, as though the shock was all but preventing him from understanding what was happening to him. The Mad Elf giggled, then cackled. It was her arm protruding from the Dunmer's stomach, coated in his blood and pieces of his flesh. She twirled the blade in her bloody hand, and stabbed back towards the wizard. Jyrosh screamed as it sliced across his face; the tip of his nose flew away. The Mad Elf laughed again, then withdrew her arm from the wizard's stomach. But she held the blade cross-ways to the wound. Blood and organs spilled out of the gaping hole she'd made.

Rock staggered back and fell to the floor, sickened and horrified by what he was seeing.

Mad-Elf didn't notice. She was too busy ripping the Telvanni sorcerer to pieces, one agonising piece at a time. She dislocated his arms at the shoulders, and broke both kneecaps with her bare hands, making sure he could not escape. Then she squatted, perched on his open ribcage, toes dug into his organs, and clawed away his skin, carving with her blade and her fingernails as the man screamed and moaned underneath her. There was blood everywhere, over the both of them and the stone ground beneath them. Skin, organs, tendons, muscle, veins, everything was slowly stripped from the Dunmer, and all while he was still alive and breathing to see it done. It was savage, and brutal. Yet while she moved quickly, her movements were methodical, as though she were recording everything in her mind for posterity. As though this were nothing more than a scientific experiment.

Rock crawled away backwards, dragging his wounded leg behind him, the daggers still clutched in his hands. This was beyond inhuman. Even the most savage of Argonian tribes back home did no such thing. But revenge killings were to match the torture or insult. Mad-Elf would soon not have enough of a man to torture.

The Dunmer rolled his head towards Rock, eyes wide and staring. "Kill me," he burbled, the sound coming from what was left of his torn-open throat rather than his mouth. "Please…" But Rock-In-The-River could barely even move. He could only watch as the tortured Argonian-in-the-form-of-a-Bosmer finished her grim business.

Jyrosh was not dead when the Mad-Elf suddenly gave a keening cry and toppled sideways, falling to the ground. She looked up at Rock, her diseased eyes leaking the poison that was killing her, and cried out again. She was pleading for something. Help? Aid? Acknowledgment that her suffering was avenged?

Death?

She coughed blood, blood and phlegm and bile and something that looked like a piece of her lung. On shaky arms, she hauled herself upright, and pressed her lips to the mutilated face of the wizard. The kiss turned savage as she started chewing off his tongue.

Shouts came from further down. Rock turned his head lightly, and saw a platoon of Ordinators charging towards them on this side of the canal. And, on the other, a silent but grim handful of Morag Tong agents. Surrounded. Rock closed his eyes, calculating his chances, then hauled himself to his feet.

"Better hurry," he told Mad-Elf, "They're coming for you."

She grinned, her lips bloodstained with the kisses she'd given to the dying Dunmer. But the grin was strained, pained, and soon disappeared as the Mad-Elf slumped over the still-living body of Jyrosh, who by now looked more like a slaughterhouse carcass than a man. And yet he still lived.

Rock glanced both ways again. Not long now. He licked his lips and prepared to fight. But he glanced briefly over the canal, looking to find Destrina's floating and charred corpse in the water, as if to give himself something to defend.

It was gone. She was gone. But there, in the distance, Rock could see a shape in the water, making slow progress to the south. To where the ship was beached on that distant sandbar. He smiled a little, to himself. Destrina lived, and was going to wait for him in the only place that she knew to be safe in this damned city.

A pity he would not live to reach her.

A keen made him turn back. And he saw her die. Mad-Elf died. It was not a quiet, dignified death that she would have deserved, after all those days and nights of torture. Instead, her skin rippled and tore at every pore, spilling liquefied bones and muscle, black bile and fouled blood. Her eyes melted, pouring out of her skull; her flesh and skin bubbled as though eaten by a corrosive poison. She screamed, and her scream stilled every single one of the approaching guards and assassins in their tracks.

She melting away while still alive, still able to feel pain while her body disintegrated around her. Rock hobbled forward and jammed his rusty iron dagger through her eye socket, and the scream died quickly. It was a small mercy, to kill her before she was to be tortured one last time. Rock imagined her to grin at him, one last time, before she dissolved into a pool of organic liquid, little more than a puddle of ooze around the wizard's corpse.

The wizard. Rock refocused his gaze, and saw with perverse pride that Mad-Elf had killed Jyrosh with her own death. She'd a hand stuck down his gagging throat, and, when she'd liquefied, he had drowned on her hand. Fitting.

"Argonian! Halt, in the name of the Three!"

"Vivec shall have his justice!"

"You die, lizard!"

"Traitor to the Webspinner!"

Rock grimaced. No time for heroics now. He was outnumbered, outmatched, and he doubted anyone would give him time to explain his actions or what had transpired here. Yet what chance did he have? Only a prayer would decide whether he lived or died this day. Still holding his Daedric dagger tight in one claw, with two groups bearing down on him, Rock threw his head back to the sky and keened in the tongue of his fathers and mothers and all the scales who ever walked the Marsh.

"_Azura, Queen of the Night Sky, I beg you! Hide me from their sight! Cover me in Moonshadow!_"


	15. Aftermath

**Disclaimer**: The awesome game belongs to me, but not the rights to it.

* * *

Destrina forced her eyelids to part, and stared numbly at the wooden darkness around her. She lifted an arm to her aching head, felt her skin crackle and tear, and cried out in pain.

"Shush-shush!" A thin figure scuttled out of the darkness, and Destrina felt some kind of a salve being applied to her skin by a gentle hand. "Still you must be, and quiet also! Greatly hurt are you. Flames from fingers touched you, never kind, never caring."

The wizard. Destrina's breath caught in her throat. That was the last thing she remembered. The wizard had ambushed her and Rock-In-The-River, and had all but killed her. The shadows peeled back, and Destrina recognised the face of the Argonian slave she'd freed from the doorman. "Oon-Wai? Where am I?"

The Argonian shook her head and continued to tend to Destrina's burns. "Not-not Oon-Wai am I. You must be mistaken, lady Redguard. I am Own-Way. Yes. Own-Way." She smiled to herself. "Not Oon-Wai… for any longer. But as for where? In a ship you are, a ship across the waters, which no longer sails as it should. It waits here, yes, waits like a good pet for the one who owns it to return. Carried you through waters here, did I."

"Rock's ship… His home," Destrina sighed, understanding, and she looked around as far as her wounded head would allow. "But where's Rock?" Fear gripped her. "What happened? Is he alright? Did the wizard…" She looked to the former slave, scarcely daring to hope. "Is Rock even alive?"

Oon-Wai considered Destrina a moment in silence. "I do not know," the Argonian said softly. "I saw you be wounded, yes, and I took you to where it was safe. Where our honoured Marsh-brother told us to flee should there danger be." She looked grim for a moment. "And danger there has been, muchly and lately."

* * *

Rock-In-The-River couldn't see where they were taking him, but he didn't need to. The smell of the air was the same as it had always been, the sounds just as familiar. Vivec city's stone walls, the creaking metal grate, the stench of the sewers, the soft smell of candlelight and herbs. Rock let himself be dragged and prodded and pushed through the muck and up ladders and across platforms and through trapdoors and wherever else they saw fit to take him. His head was covered in a sack, his arms were bound, he had been disarmed, his leg was still bleeding and useless, and there were more than enough hands here to keep him still and eyes on him to preventing him from trying something. But Rock wasn't going to fight them all, not here. Not now. What was the point?

They were taking him right where he needed to go.

* * *

Destrina tried to sit up again, but her whole body roared in protest and pain. The Redguard muffled her own scream and screwed her eyes shut tight. _I shouldn't do this_, she thought weakly, _but what choice do I have?_ She barked a command word, and a blue-white glow covered her body. The scars and burnt tissue were healed almost immediately, but Destrina knew she'd pay for such an extensive surge of magical healing later. Already she could feel the beginnings of a savage headache and a heavy weariness falling on her. She'd pushed herself too far already today. But she intended to push herself just a little further.

"Rock-In-The-River," the Redguard asked, shouldering aside her concerns and hauling herself to her feet. "Where is he? Is he alright?"

Oon-Wai also stood, and faced Destrina as an equal. "Not knowing, sera," she said gently. "Own-Way, as this one is, saw you fall, and came to aid you. A debt to pay I hoped to, and saved you I have. But our Marsh-brother remained standing, and fighting much was he." She held up one clawed finger, stopping Destrina's outburst before it began. "Saw him live, did I, honoured sera. Looked back, I did, as saving you I did. With aid, defeated the wizard he has."

Destrina took a breath to sigh, relieved.

"But his blood will be spilt soon, I think, honoured sera."

The sigh turned to a choked gasp.

Oon-Wai fixed Destrina with a serious eye. "What rules he has broke, know not do I. But came to capture him came many. And not even the gift of his birth-star was able to save him."

Destrina closed her eyes a moment, trying to shake her head. For him to have come this far, to have done all that was asked of him - and more, so much more - and he was to die? He'd risked his life, his reputation, his freedom, in pursuing the Mad-Elf, in aiding Destrina and even saving her life. The Redguard lifted her head, eyes glinting. _Time I repaid the favour_, she thought darkly.

She'd already risked her life by healing herself with such a significant spell. But at that moment, Destrina didn't really care. She motioned for Oon-Wai to step back, focused on the shape of her birthsign in her mind, and slowly enunciated a string of unintelligible words.

* * *

Someone kicked both of his legs out from under him, and Rock found himself kneeling on a cold stone floor, with his captors' weapons pressed against his scales. He did his best not to give a sardonic smile under the hood. He knew exactly where he was, and why he'd been brought here. He knew the smell of this room, of these people.

He considered sending up another prayer to Azura, but discarded the idea immediately. He was surrounded, and even if somehow the Daedric Prince granted Rock's request to become invisible for a _third_ time in one day - which would not only be pushing Azura's patience but the limits of Rock's own birthsign (and who knows what kind of repercussions that would have) - Rock would get nowhere. Even invisible, those who surrounded him were pressed so close that he would be found immediately. Invisibility wouldn't help him. Nothing short of a miracle would.

"Blind Thrall," Eno Hlaalu's red eyes burned furiously as he tore the hood from Rock-In-The-River's head, "You stand here, accused of the basest treachery against the Morag Tong. How do you plead?"

Rock closed his eyes and sighed. "I fulfilled my duty," he said, voice low and defeated. He felt sapped, sapped of the strange fierceness that had been inspired in him now that the one who inspired such defiance was dead. "I killed deh Mad Elf, as was the writ I had been assigned." He glanced up, briefly. "For what reason, Guildmaster, am I on trial?" The blades pressed into Rock's spine dug a little deeper, and Alrene's knife against Rock's throat curved slightly against his scales, a little harder, a little closer to the vein.

There was likewise no sympathy in Eno's eyes. "You, Blind-Thrall, have sullied the honour of the Morag Tong. You enlisted the help of an outsider to the Webspinner's business, even one who had a writ on her own head."

Rock seethed quietly. _Destrina was no criminal. She was just a victim to politics_. He bowed his head. _Just as I am_.

"You let the Mad-Elf kill again." Eno paused a moment, then ceded, "Though this death allowed you to track her and catch her, you failed to stop her from her rampage. You failed to collect your writ, allowed another with a writ to be lost, and are responsible for the death of one of the Morag Tong's most powerful patrons. In short, Blind-Thrall, you have failed. Your failure speaks of outright disobedience, defiance, and treachery of the lowest order. You are, therefore, to be executed before Mephala's altar. Thus, balance within the Web shall be restored." The Guildmaster turned his back on Rock and the other assassins of the Morag Tong, and took a glass knife from a sheath at his waist.

Rock smelled magic on the air, coming from the altar, and he tensed himself, frills flat against his skull. It seemed as though Mephala herself was stirring, eagerly watching this proceeding.

"Have you anything to say in your defence, Blind Thrall?" The glass knife glinted darkly in the candlelight.

Rock glanced up to Eno. "Yes, sera," he said softly, "No, sera. Three bags full, sera."

The Guildmaster pulled his lip sidelong, something of a sneer - but also something of a smile - then drew back his arm ready to strike.

The smell of magic intensified, and the light from the candles was gradually made insignificant as a bright glow filled the room. The light started small, but gradually grew and grew, a hot-white light which coalesced over the altar of Mephala. Eno shielded his eyes with his arm, and those Morag Tong agents holding and guarding Rock all flinched. Even Rock was forced to squint, turning his head as best he could to protect his eyes. _What is this?_ He wondered, afraid, _Some avatar of the Webspinner come to witness my death?_

Through the light a single figure materialised, armed and roaring in rage. And then the light died, and standing on the altar, mace brandished and wreathed in magic, was a furious Redguard.

"Stand down, dogs," Destrina snarled, "Or die where you are!"


End file.
